A Lack of Winter
by Benne the Clone
Summary: Cardassians occupy Bajor, stripping it of its resources and preparing the planet for permanent settlement. A Bajoran worker assigned to the station moves into areas she never expected to encounter. Original Characters, first DS9 fan fic. Reviews welcome. Dukat is a minor character.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Jevah shivered. Life in the cities under the Occupation had not been pleasant, but at least she had a chance to get a technical education and some skilled jobs in the city that helped to feed and clothe her aunt and led to further advancement. Standing in line to board the shuttle for the Terok Nor station, she wondered why she had bothered to get any computer training at all. It had, in many ways, been a good decision; she had some talent at the job and had advanced as far as a Bajoran could working in the Operations center of the city. But it had brought her to the attention of the Cardassian supervisors, who had added her name to a transfer list when the station requested more specialists. She wondered what it would be like, to live on the enclosed station, surrounded by the Cardassian occupiers, working in the proximity of the senior staff and the Prefect who governed the planet.

She desperately hoped that she would be in some area away from the central activity... in the waste management center, perhaps, or someplace where she could concentrate on work and stay out of the way. She had found that keeping a low profile was the best way to avoid drawing attention; she had been fortunate so far to come in for very little attention from the supervising soldiers. The catcalls and shoves on the streets as she traveled to and from work were a constant, but travelling with a small group of companions usually made her feel safer and deflected attention equally to all members of the group. Women walking alone were at risk for more-personalized-attention.

The rear section of the shuttle was cramped and uncomfortable; low-level soldiers and Bajorans being brought to the station jostled together, more than a few elbows and ribs connecting. Jevah caught a glance of the well-appointed front section; the seats were comfortably padded and spaced apart; the uniforms of the soldiers were crisp and newer, not slightly worn like those in the back. She caught a whiff of a hot drink she knew the Cardassians favored, and her stomach growled. She had been too long without food.

The ride to the station was not long. When they disembarked the shuttle, the Bajoran passengers were separated by occupation and directed to their new work stations. Most of the workers headed for the ore processing areas, these looked worn and dejected, if muscular; Jevah felt guilty for her feelings of relief that she was not among them. She was convinced she wouldn't live long in the steamy, gritty ore-processing environment.

She and two other workers, an older man and woman, were taken to the general operations part of the station and shown to the Cardassian supervisor; the other two workers were escorted away. She was escorted to the Life Support Center's monitoring room, a circular room of workstations set below a raised center area. The Cardassian overseer, a bulky man with an angry sneer on his face. fingered his weapon and nodded shortly in the direction of one of the workstations, where Bajoran workers hunched over consoles. One of the older workers glanced up and communicated with looks only that she was to approach.

In a low voice the woman explained the working of the consoles; Jevah would be monitoring the flow rates for the various chemicals and gasses that provided air, heat, and power to the station. (The ore-processing functions were separate and in a different center of operations.) Jevah thought it looked simple enough; she shadowed the operator (who had not given her name) for half the shift and then sat down in her place and began training her eyes to roam the monitors and displays, watching for discrepancies. She picked it up fairly quickly; the experienced operator occasionally flicked a finger toward a dial that she should watch and she logged the variances. One finally flashed outside the allowable limits; the supervisor was flagged. The Cardassian hovered over her menacingly, and Jevah slunk down in her seat while the operator explained the reading. One of the O2 sensors had detected a drop in the pressure in a specific conduit; the Cardassian finally agreed that it needed some attention and made a short call on his comunit, directing a worker to the appropriate area. He moved away, and the trainer told Jevah how long she should expect to see the variance in the reading before it would be fixed. Once that time limit had passed, they were to notify the supervisor again. It was a simple job, mind-numbing in its repetition, made interesting only by the occasional fluctuation of readings that had to be observed to see if they tripped some critical threshold of variance.

By the end of the shift, Jevah was sure she understood the console, the variations of the readings, and the procedures to be followed for variances. As the new shift workers came into the room, the replacement operators observed the console for a few minutes before slipping into the seats, and the newly-relieved workers filed singly past the Cardassian supervisor, who ignored them disdainfully. A guard escorted the group down the hallway a distance before anyone spoke; the older woman who had trained Jevah introduced herself as Binna and explained that the overseer, Charis, did not care to have the Bajorans conversing amongst themselves in his hearing. "So we stay quiet until we leave the area; that way we don't get more than the occasional black eye." Jevah shuddered. Reality on the station so far had not been as bad as she expected; the streets of Jalanda city had as many Cardassian soldiers as she had seen here. But the enclosed space, the dim lighting of the hallways, crowded as they were, gave her a sense of being stalked, of being a small prey animal crouched amongst the tall stalks of tsampa, hoping to avoid the gaze of the flying predators that circled overhead.

The indifferent or angry glances of the passing Cardassian soldiers and administrative staff were like blows to her spirit, and she felt her shoulders sagging and her steps slow. The guard delivered the group to a clearly-delineated section and through a mesh gate; Binna tugged at her elbow. "Come on," she whispered, "I want to get you to the dining hall and the barracks before it's too late." They circled around the wide ring and came to a large, shabby space filled with plain tables and benches, separated from the hallway by a wire-lined sliding fence. The replicators had a limited menu; they dispensed soup, cooked grain, and some mushy vegetables, and Jevah and Binna settled onto a bench at the end of a long row of tables. "There is a certain amount of mobility in this section," Binna said, taking on a lecturing tone, "but if you see soldiers in front of a door, don't approach it. Either keep walking or go back the way you came. We don't work near the Operations center, so mostly we can keep a low profile, but occasionally one of us gets moved into a position there, and that's a tougher path to walk. For now, let's eat, get you a bunk assigned, and find the facilities." The barracks was down the hall; it appeared that this entire level was set aside for the use of the workers ( _slaves_ , Jevah thought bitterly), with rooms full of bunk beds, others with latrines and showers, and one area where replacement clothing was replicated. A quota system was in place; new sets of the baggy, shapeless tunic and trousers were only available every ten days.

Jevah settled into "her" bunk. There was a small storage space at the foot for any personal items; she had brought nothing with her except toiletries. The mattress pad was thin but tolerable; she winced, thinking about her aged aunt Elga trying to sleep on that unforgiving surface. Blankets were not needed; the Cardassians kept the station warm enough for their own comfort, which most Bajorans found hot to the point of sweltering. After the newness of the day, sleep came quickly.'

Jevah settled into the routine of her new life on the station. The surroundings on this level were dull; the lift to the working level was utilitarian and plan. There was nothing to draw the eye, none of the occasional things that she could see on the planet to soothe her soul in the smallest bit. She found herself watching everything she passed, looking for a spot of color, of living plants, of anything but the hard metal and ceramic surfaces of the station, finding nothing appealing or enjoyable to her eyes.

The Bajoran dorm areas were unsegregated, and the echoing noise of the snoring workers kept her awake for many nights before she was able to rest comfortably in her own space. The lack of privacy soon became a non-issue; most of the workers were so worn down in spirit that they were unable to look at each other with anything more than a resigned sympathy. She occasionally heard noises at night that suggested some had found the energy for bed sports, but had no inclination for such herself.

The Cardassian soldiers and supervisors were still intimidating, not unlike the soldiers in the city, but the presence of the occupation governor in the station seemed to make them more attentive to detail, more inclined to pick over every anomaly and examine every shift change with suspicion. She had maintained a habit of sitting quietly at her console and monitoring the readings; so far, after several tendays of work, she had only had to signal the overseer twice. Each time he came up behind her, he had pressed a hard-edged hip against her back, his armor crowding her shoulders and pressing her head downward. The first time he ordered a workman to the site; the second time he merely leaned over her for several minutes until the display returned to normal.

After he stepped away, Jevah sighed quietly. She knew women and some men who had received attention from Cardassian overseers or soldiers; the attention was mostly unwelcome. Generally, the Cardassian got what they wanted, and the victim was attended to by friends, or, sometimes, buried quietly. She made quiet conversation with her neighbors when Charis stepped out of the room; when he was nearby she sat quietly at her station.

After Jevah had been at the station for a few months, she arrived with her shift-mates at the LSC to find the room unusually tense. Charis was standing stiffly at attention, his uniform creased and shiny. Several other Cardassian stood in the room with him; one was explaining the workings of the room to another, a tall, lean man who looked over the consoles indifferently. Jevah, uncertain of the protocols, stood with her group to the side near the doorway, waiting for a signal, any hint of a clue as to her expected behavior. The visiting Cardassians moved toward the door, and she fell aside even further, staying out of their way. They moved outward and down the hall, and Jevah turned toward her workstation, running into another Cardassian she had not seen. The collision with his hard armor pushed the air out of her lungs in a huff and staggered her. The lights seemed to darken; she leaned toward her console, and Binna came from behind her to grab her elbow and lead her toward the chair.

"Here," the soldier said. "What were you doing skulking back there?"

"Just trying to stay out of the way," Jevah muttered, gasping for breath.

"Get to your station," he growled.

Binna walked her to her station, and stayed while she transitioned onto shift. "What was that all about?" Jevah asked quietly.

"That tall man was the Prefect, Dukat. Quarterly inspection or something," Binna whispered. "And we have a new supervisor. That one you ran into, name is Skurs or something like that." Jevah glanced around, as she had not really gotten a look at the man, and saw him across the room, watching her. She turned back to her console quickly and began to scan the dials.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Skurs watched everyone. He spent time over each operator's desk, reviewing explanations of the functions and readouts, ensuring that each monitor understood the console's functions and their own responsibilities. He seemed to have deeper knowledge of the life support functions of the station; he was more than just an ordinary soldier.

He was demanding; one operator who let a variance go on too long was knocked out of his chair with a hard blow to the ribs, but he was not unfair, and he did not appear to try to personally intimidate any of the workers. His presence was not commanding or charismatic; he was functional without demonstrating the brutality many of the other Cardassian soldiers showed in their everyday behavior. Jevah was quietly surprised; her cumulative dealings with the Cardassian occupiers had been one of humiliation and denigration. This Cardassian treated each of the workers as if they were, if not people, not starting from an automatic position of inferiority. He listened to explanations and gave the operators credit for their knowledge.

On his shift, the workers in the room felt a slightly more relaxed environment, if not fully free of menace; quiet conversations were permitted, if they did not interfere with the work. In off time, he was seen on the upper level of the Promenade or in the Ferengi bar, talking and drinking with associates, and he began to come across as a somewhat personable fellow, someone Jevah thought, on reflection, she could like if he were Bajoran.

After several weeks under his supervision, most of the workers had relaxed; Jevah had occasionally greeted him upon reporting for her daily shift. He rarely responded, but nodded shortly.

Life in the station, after several months, had come to seem routine. Jevah was gaining companions, between her workmates and those in her dorm area; she spent off-shift time conversing with others, mending clothing, and getting to know her way around the station as much as Bajorans were allowed. She began to know the tension of an unexpected security sweep, as the visceral response to soldiers crowding through the Bajoran sector swept ahead of their presence; she became aware of the sudden silence that would fall over certain groups conversing quietly when she strayed too near. She watched, but was not invited to join, some group games, and managed to avoid completely the chemical and intoxicant substances available to those who had the strips or were willing to take risks to get them. She even carried on a gentle flirtation with a Bajoran who served food to the casual workers on the station. She missed the sky, the wind, the feel of air moving on her skin, but held onto hope that someday she would be assigned back to the planet.

At the end of her shift one day, Skurs walked over to Jevah's station. "Your relief is late," he said, no expression on his face, nothing revealed in his voice. "You will stay until he arrives."

Jevah nodded, and as her shift-mates left the room, escorted by the ever-present guard, she took a deep breath. This was now Charis' shift, and he still seemed to delight in menacing the workers, especially the women, merely by crowding their space, leaning into them, and whispering threats or vulgarities when standing behind one or another. But Skurs had not left, as he usually did; he was standing on the platform that oversaw the room, conversing with Charis in a quiet tone. After a few minutes, after she had gotten back into the rhythm of the monitoring, scanning dials and readouts as usual, she became aware of a presence behind her. The gaunt middle-aged Bajoran looked down at her. "I know I'm late," he said quietly, "sorry to have kept you here."

She shrugged. "It happens."

"Not to me. You know I am usually on time. But I got held up by a random patrol; they were doing especially intensive searches tonight. I can take over now." Jevah slipped off the stool and stretched, then headed toward the door hatch, just as Skurs turned away from Charis and prepared to leave the room. She slowed, and waited for him to pass through first, as was expected, and walked into the hallway, expecting to see a guard; Bajorans did not move through these corridors unescorted. But Skurs was there, waiting, and watching. Watching her.

Jevah faltered, then walked toward him, toward the stairway that led to her level. Show no fear, she had learned. Show nothing. Don't let them see you feel anything. She schooled her face into a mask, and walked steadily down the hallway, although her heart was pounding in her chest and her breath was short. Skurs held out his hand as she approached, indicating a stop. Jevah halted. He turned away, said "Come with me," and walked rapidly out of sight around the curving passageway. Jevah was frozen for a few moments, and then forced herself to move, to catch up with him. Being caught alone in a Cardassian area could be dangerous.

What was this about? Who wanted her presence, and why? She reviewed the past several days, and could not find anything that might cause complaint… and usually complaints were dealt with immediately, on the spot, much to the detriment of the offender. She caught up with Skurs near another staircase and followed him wearily up several levels, to Cardassian territory.

There was a single soldier on duty at the security station near the head of the stairwell; he watched her carefully as she followed Skurs down the hallway to the left. The passages on the Cardassian level were nearly deserted at this hour; Skurs stopped at a door nearby and touched the control on the door. It slid aside, revealing personal quarters, not an office or functional space. Her stomach twisted. Occasionally Cardassian soldiers took women for an evening; she had successfully avoided that so far in her life. The thought that she might no longer be so lucky was very nearly debilitating.

The quarters were sparse, as she would have expected of a soldier; there were no decorative objects, nothing that was not functional within the room. One door led to what was probably a refresher room; the next one was likely a sleeping room. Curved hatches framed windows that looked into space; Jevah felt like a moth pulled to a flame as she was drawn to look at the view. Stars! Magnificent, brighter than she had ever seen, even in the mountains, and so many! The sky was so crowded! For a few moments, she was lost in wonder.

Something rustled nearby; she turned. Skurs stood against a wall, watching her. She had forgotten about him for a moment, gazing out at the night. She began to tremble in spite of her best efforts.

He pointed at the refresher room. "Clean up," he said shortly.

Jevah went into the small room and found a comparatively luxurious refresher, with hot water, air jets, gentle cleansers, and - a thin fabric robe. Tears ran down her face. "Oh, Prophets," she whispered, turning on the water and checking the door compulsively to be certain it was closed. Not that it would make a difference if he decided to come in, she knew that. The hot water seemed to calm her, and feeling well and truly clean for the first time in tendays gave her, if not confidence, a feeling of frozen calm that could at least deceive for a time. Dry, hair hanging down her back, Jevah pulled on the robe, a pale color that she could not quite identify in the lowered light preferred by the Cardassians.

She stepped back into the main room, to find Skurs turning away from the replicator with a tray in his hands. Fruit, cheese, bread, wine—things she had not tasted since she had come to the station. "Sit," he told her, indicating one of the couches that centered the room. He placed the tray on the small table at her side, and took a chair positioned just beyond it. "You should eat; you will have missed the evening meal." He took a piece of cheese and held it, then looked at her sharply. Jevah picked up a small rombal fruit, turned it over in her hands, and nearly dropped it when Skurs shifted in his chair. His lips tightened slightly, and he watched as Jevah nibbled on the fruit. He handed her a cloth, and she folded the rind into it, reached for a slice of bread, and put cheese on it.

"Eat it," he said. Jevah took a small bite, and chewed slowly. She felt like a mouse being watched by a large, hungry cat. She choked down the entire piece, but then dropped her hands to her lap, unable to eat more.

"Why—why am I here?" she asked quietly.

"Because I wish it," he replied. "Kanar," he said, handing her a small glass filled halfway with a reddish liquid; Jevah took a sip under his watchful eye. It was acrid and strong, with a sweet undertone that almost made it bearable, and after a moment she took another sip. Perhaps she should get drunk; it might make what would follow tolerable.

The kanar seemed to help her relax, and she had more bread and fruit, alternating it with sips of the kanar. Skurs relaxed in his chair, now ignoring her, seeming to stare out at the stars as he drank from his bigger glass. After a while, she thought that he might have forgotten she was there, and turned her attention to the viewport, the sight of the burning sky bringing her a deeper calm than she could have anticipated. She turned, drawing her legs up under her, and curled up on the sofa, just watching the stars and not thinking, just feeling the wine, the food, the warmth, the comfortable chair, and reveling in the glory of the sky.

The couch shifted as Skurs settled himself beside her, behind her, because of the way she had twisted about. She froze, all her earlier panic returning as he stroked her hair. "Cardassian hair is not so fine as this," he said quietly, "not so light. This hair feels weak, like it would snap, and blow about in the wind."

"It does, both," she admitted. "It breaks easily and gets very tangled when I am outside."

"Why not cut it?"

"I like it. And it keeps my head warm in the winter."

"That is not such an issue on the station."

She took a breath, and asked again "Why am I here?"

"For the reason you think you are here."

"Bed sports."

He smiled tightly; she could hear it in his voice. "If that is what you call it." One finger stroked down her neck, along the same area where Cardassians had ridges. "This seems so bare, so incomplete." The touch made her shiver, and seemed to enhance the effect of the kanar; the room spun ever so slightly. "Turn around," he told her, and Jevah shifted on the cushion, pulling the robe around her where it had parted. He was close, just inches away, and she dropped her eyes. She could not look at him, could not see what was in his shadowed eyes. She felt somehow that if she looked at his face, his eyes, she would be lost, frozen, gone forever, an empty shell to be used and discarded. Eyes down, she could hold onto herself, try to keep herself under control even as her skin tingled where he had touched it.

"Jevah." She looked up in spite of herself; she had never heard him say her name. His eyes were somber, dark, serious, staring into her own. His hand cupped her cheek and pulled her toward him; she started as his lips touched hers. He was warm, warm; he felt like a fever against her mouth, and between the food and the kanar and the warmth and the hot water, she relaxed against him, responding tentatively. He had changed into a soft, loose tunic and trousers, and she could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric as he pulled her closer. His hands roamed her back and shoulders; hers were still, hesitant, not knowing what they should do or not do. He sat back after a moment, then leaned around her and handed her the forgotten glass of kanar. "Drink," he said. Defiantly, she tossed back the rest of the liquid, then coughed as it burned down her throat.

He leaned back into the cushions, and drew her to rest against his side, still for the moment, an arm around her back, the other hand holding his glass. She did not move, but did not fight him, and the wine and the heat made her relax, drooped her head against his shoulder. She hiccupped, then giggled, tried to stifle it, and hiccupped again. In a moment they were both laughing, Jevah almost hysterically. When they wound back into silence, Skurs leaned back on the sofa again, then turned so that he could stretch his legs along the cushions, pulling her down against his side. Jevah could not be completely tense, not after the wine, the water, the warmth, but she was still apprehensive, and she shivered as his hand on her arm drew lazy patterns, spirals and swirls, on her skin. The touch was light, almost feathery, and her skin tingled, the flush running up her arm and down her torso, down her hips, into her legs, centered below her belly, hot and relaxed and exciting all at once.

They sprawled on the couch for some time; Jevah relaxing to the point where she almost dozed off, when Skurs stood, pulled her to her feet, and kissed her again. This time he used his hands to press her body against his. She could feel his desire, and some fiery part of herself responded, wrapping her arms around his waist, running her fingers along the muscles of his back, the bony top of his hip, more ridges on his shoulder blades. He inhaled sharply when she ran her fingers along his spine, then led her slowly to the bedroom.

Jevah was on fire, relaxed and burning at the same time. Her body ached for something, and when Skurs pulled her robe off and drew her down onto the bed, she welcomed it, ignoring that part of her mind that protested in the deepest secret parts of her being.

His neck ridges were sensitive, she found, gentle touches sending great shudders down his body. Feathery touches seemed to enflame him, and he struggled out of his clothing before pulling her close once again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jevah woke in darkness and heat, slowly becoming aware that she was sleeping in a comfortable, wide bed with a Cardassian. "Skurs," she told herself. Her head ached a little, and she stumbled to the refresher room to relieve herself, then to the replicator for a glass of water. Still exhausted and a bit light-headed, she went back to the bed without further thought, and fell asleep instantly.

She awoke alone, sounds coming from the refresher room identifying Skurs' location. She stretched once, then stilled, remembering the night. Her mind whirled with ideas and fears… what would her fellows think of her? How would they react? Would Skurs want her again, would he leave her alone, would he treat her differently? After several minutes, he walked into the room and said shortly "Your clothes are in there," pointing toward the 'fresher. "Shift starts in an hour."

Jevah hurried through a morning routine, barely enjoying the hot water and cleanliness before leaving the room dressed in her daily blue tunic. Skurs had straightened the bed and ordered bread, fruit, and cooked grain for breakfast, evidently enough to share, for there was an extra bowl on the low table near the viewport. He was in one of the chairs, reading something on a padd and sipping a hot drink. He glanced up, nodded toward the other chair, and went back to his reading. Jevah sat down and gathered her breakfast, eating as quietly and quickly as she could. When she finished, she stood, preparing to leave, and Skurs looked up. "Take this," he said, and handed her another pass, "and come back three hours after shift end."

Jevah staggered. "You—want me to come back?"

"As I said." He signaled the security station, and a guard arrived at his door to escort her to the LSC. She tucked the pass inside her tunic. At her work console, Binna looked at her sideways, and Jevah blushed. She saw a knowing look cross Binna's face, and turned even redder. "I—" she started to say, then faltered. What could she say? How could she possibly explain?

"It happens," Binna said quietly. "It happens to many of us. No-one will condemn you for this. It's not like you have a choice. None of us do, not really." She turned back to her work, and Jevah recognized the complicity of a woman who had been through a similar situation, however long in the past it might be. Others in the room gave her understanding nods, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps it might not be so bad. But, her mind argued, he wanted her to return. The pass he'd given her looked long-term, not the ephemeral product used for one-time movement about the station. Her hand shook slightly as she tapped a dial, noted a variance, and continued to scan.

There was a pressure drop in a coolant pipe later in the day; Skurs hovered over her shoulder and observed the reading while he directed technicians to the indicated section for diagnosis and repair. He treated her no differently than any other of the workers in the room, and Jevah went almost limp with relief. Finally, the issue was resolved and he moved away; she breathed deeply. His proximity had been disturbing; she felt a combination of arousal and shame, fear and desire in his presence. He had been disturbingly good in their encounter, better than anyone she'd taken as a lover before, and the dichotomy of his ease with her body and the lack of choice she had in the matter was confusing, hateful, and slightly delicious, all at once. Binna cast her a sympathetic glance and touched her arm comfortingly before turning back to her station.

After shift, she and Binna walked back to the dorm area with the other workers. "I am supposed to return later," she confessed to Binna. "I had thought it might just be a one-time thing…"

"I have seen both happen," Binna said quietly. "Sometimes these Cardassians just want an evening of bed sports; others seem to actually develop some attachment to a woman, and keep them on for months. The Prefect has actually had a Bajoran lover for several years."

Jevah closed her eyes for a long moment, trusting that she would not stumble. "That long?"

"I have heard of women who have spent years with soldiers or Cardassian administrators," Binna told her. "We don't discuss them much, but we mostly do not hold them responsible. Those in the Resistance condemn them—and many men do not understand a woman who goes with a Cardassian. Some see the women as collaborators; they think we should fight and die rather than give in. But not everyone can do that. The only ones we truly condemn are those who willingly help the Cardassians suppress and govern the people, those who identify Resistance members or plots, or who actively try to block them."

At the dorm, however, it was not as easy as Binna had predicted. As Jevah gathered her few personal items into a small bag in preparation for spending another night in Skurs' quarters, several of her near neighbors gathered. "Collaborator!" one hissed. Others muttered uglier slurs, casting dark looks and clenched fists in her direction. After several minutes of this, Binna and several other women came over to stand around her.

"Leave her alone," she told the small group of men. "You mostly don't have to deal with this, but when a Cardassian wants one of us in his bed, what choice do we have? Would you see soldiers walking through here, grabbing women and boys and taking them away? Or would you rather we have some dignity, and save what self-respect we can? Do you think we would do this for pleasure, for gain?"

Abashed, they turned away, acknowledging the unspoken truth that these depredations were carried out almost exclusively among the women of the station; that while both men and women could be beaten and tortured, the women had the additional humiliation of being selected as sexual gratification subjects by the Cardassians.

The third hour after shift approached, about mid-evening, and Jevah made her reluctant way to the security station at the edge of the Bajoran worker area. A guard examined her pass closely, and called for an escort, who took her to the lift that went to the Cardassian officer occupancy level. This time, there was traffic on the level, and she was watched by various soldiers and administrators as she was walked down the passageway, her pass in her hand. Some were indifferent, some smiled knowingly. A few seemed angry, and one very tall man stopped her escort and demanded to know her business on the level. When Jevah handed him the pass, he snorted. She glanced up, to realize that the Prefect was examining her closely. "Skurs," he mused. He returned the pass, and moved on without another word.

Arriving at Skurs' door, her guard pressed the signal, and the door slid open. She stepped inside, pale and shaky, and leaned against the bulkhead as the door closed beside her. Skurs came out of the bedroom area, and looked at her sideways. "What is it?"

"I just… ran into the Prefect," Jevah told him. She related the encounter in some detail, little enough as it was for the few seconds of interaction, and Skurs seemed to pay close attention to every nuance. He sat down on the couch and mused for a few minutes, while Jevah made her shaky way to the replicator and ordered a cup of tea. She sat down in the single chair and watched him, his thoughts obviously busy, his eyes darting back and forth while he considered. He finally stood and went to the viewport, and stared toward the stars, although whether he saw them or not, Jevah could not guess. Now he was still, hands clasped behind him, his slim body and wide shoulders forming a tall, inverted triangle. For a Cardassian, Jevah thought, he was not bad looking; his features were long and narrow, but not sharp, and he was nicely proportional, wiry and athletic like a hunting cat.

 _Stop it!_ she told herself. _You cannot allow yourself to admire these people!_ She could not, even now, find anything in their behavior as a culture to appreciate, but individually she had met kind Cardassians, evil ones, indifferent ones, even a few innocents, who seemed to believe inherently in their government's actions, without ever examining their morality. Besides, other than having spent a night with him and having worked under his supervision for all those tendays, she knew virtually nothing about this man. Was he kind? Was he a sadist? Did he kick pets or grow flowers? Was he a musician, a philosopher, or nothing more than a caricature of a man, a ceramic Cardassian, unthinkingly following the orders of a corrupt and distorted regime?

She finished her tea in silence, and then moved to the refresher room, showering without thought. The silky fabric of the robe mocked her as she pulled it around her shoulders, and she left her toiletries in an empty drawer in the storage area. Skurs' personal effects were little enough… soap, a comb, and cleanser for his teeth. He appeared to need nothing else; his bedroom had been as empty.

When she re-entered the main room, Skurs still stood before the port, staring toward the stars. Jevah settled back into a chair, one positioned to allow her to see the stars, and watched them past his back. She curled her legs up under her, not from cold, not in a Cardassian's quarters, but for security; she felt uncertain and alone in these rooms.

The door signaled; Skurs did not move. "Enter," he said. The door slid aside to reveal the Prefect, a sardonic smile on his face. Skurs turned, bowed slightly. "Prefect," he said. Dukat walked into the room and glanced around, and his smile seemed to widen when he caught sight of Jevah. She ducked her head and stilled into invisibility as the Prefect walked toward the viewport where Skurs still stood. They spoke quietly for a few moments, and Jevah heard little except hints of schedules and maintenance; then Dukat said something that seemed to freeze the younger man. The Prefect watched him carefully, that same look on his face, and then turned toward the door. "Enjoy the night," he said, the phrase carefully accented to imply Jevah's presence in his quarters.

Skurs made sure the door was closed behind the prefect before turning to a small stand and filling a glass from a waiting bottle of kanar. He drank it hastily, then turned to his computer console and sat, as if steeling himself for some odious task. He pressed a button and a recording began; Jevah could tell by the reflected light that it was video as well. A female voice spoke Cardassian too quickly for her to follow, but the tension in Skurs' shoulders was evident and his greyish skin seemed to darken while she watched from the corner of her eye. The message ended and Skurs stood, switching the terminal off. He suddenly seemed to become aware of her presence, and took a seat on the couch nearest her chair. His expression was stony, frozen, his eyes hard. "That," he said quietly, "is how events tendays old are communicated. Through a message, not even a call, through cold recorded words, sending delayed until the situation is past redemption."

Jevah opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. What could she say? Something had upset him, that much she knew. Was it bad news? A tragedy? Or something long suspected coming to fruition? He looked up at her. "Bring more wine, and pour yourself some."

She stood to obey, pouring his glass mostly full and putting a small amount in her own. The kanar had not had an aftereffect, but she had felt so beyond control that she was hesitant to consume more of the stuff. She started to move back to her chair, but he indicated with a jerk of his head that she was to sit beside him. "I will not speak of it," he said, when she took a breath to make an attempt. "Tell me of yourself."

Jevah shrugged and leaned against the cushions, carefully not touching Skurs. "It is little enough to tell. I was born in the Musilla province, child to farmers. I came to the city and lived with my aunt to continue my education, and received training in computer skills. I had a talent for it, so the administrative center in Jelandra assigned me to work there, with positions of gradually increasing complexity. A few months ago, the station requested additional personnel with skills that matched mine, and the center sent me."

"Lovers? Children?"

"Neither. Our farm was isolated; and when I reached the city I knew no-one so formed no real relationships other than casual acquaintances." She did not mention her aunt's friends, the older ladies who had buzzed around trying to find her a mate, introducing her to this or that man, none of whom had drawn her interest. She did not mention the occasional Cardassian soldier who had implied that he could be generous with rations or supplies, should she spend time with him privately.

"What do you do when not at work?"

"In Jelandra, I helped my aunt; she is elderly. Cleaning, cooking, mending, all the things that an old woman needs help with. I read books, tried to repair some of the damage to her house, and helped her when she needed it."

"What do you read?"

"Whatever I can find… history, literature, novels—books are hard to come by. Aunt Elga had some cookbooks, some repair manuals from older systems, some private writings about the history of her family. Some of her friends had books on other subjects… Mechanics, embroidery, building furniture, art… " Her voice faded. Skurs had started to relax. He had leaned back into the couch, had stretched his legs out before him, and finished his glass of wine. Jevah rose and poured more into his glass; he indicated that she should add to hers as well.

"Have you ever read any Cardassian literature?"

"No, I have never seen any. I haven't read anything at all since coming to the station."

"That is a lack I can remedy. I will get you a reader with a few books on it, if reading is so important to you."

"It is… if the words are right, I can be swept away, go into other worlds or other places, learn new things—"

"Some new things are not worth learning," he growled, his earlier moodiness returning abruptly. Jevah turned her head and edged slightly away from him. Skurs shook himself abruptly and visibly pushed his irritation aside. He extended an arm and gathered her to him, but made no further moves. Jevah sat beside him, feeling his heat along the side of her body, and closed her eyes. This man felt deeply, this was obvious. And the long-term pass—well, that appeared to mean that she would be returning to his quarters often. Would she have to play the compliant woman, to keep those feelings of anger from being directed at her? Cardassians were strong, and this one was a soldier, and she was a console worker… with no training in much else, certainly not enough to defend herself from an attack should he decide to take out his frustrations on her. Ah, Prophets, why had she looked at him? Why bump into him? And why had he looked back?

She took a chance. "When do I get your short biography?" Skurs turned to look at her, his face expressionless.

"You would ask this?"

"Why would I not?"

He shrugged. "Like yourself, there is little to tell. Middle-class family, but too many sons, so we scraped enough latinum together to purchase my commission. I have advanced in rank since that time, but there is only so far I can go as I am not one of the right families." He paused, then shrugged. "There is little beyond that. I have made the military my life, in the absence of other options."

"More wine?" Jevah asked, leaning forward for the bottle she'd left on the low table. He held out his glass to be filled, and Jevah sipped on hers. Kanar was strong, and she could feel its effects already; how much more must he be feeling? Or did Cardassians perhaps have a stronger tolerance for the stuff? But in that case, why drink it?

His head sagged back onto the cushions, and Jevah wondered if he was truly intoxicated. She took another chance, and asked quietly, "Why am I here?"

He grunted, and finished his wine. "Again, you ask?"

"Bed sports, yes," she said, "that's what you said last night. But why am I here again? Why do I have a pass that allows me access to your quarters, in the habitat area reserved for Cardassian officers?"

"Perhaps I am weak. Perhaps I miss the closeness of another person. Perhaps I just want sex. Who can say?"

Jevah fell silent. It was conversation, at least, and it was at least a little easier than it had been the night before. She didn't want to talk with this man, she didn't want to like him, but she could feel it start to happen. He was changing, in front of her, from a Cardassian occupier, to a young lonely officer in a strange place, one who reached out for whatever contact he could find.

She sighed and lowered her head to the cushions, felt herself dozing off. It was the heat, perhaps, or the comfortable cushions; she had not wanted to be relaxed enough here to drift off without thinking. After a time, Skurs' breathing settled into a regular pattern; she moved slowly enough to look at him without disturbing him. He appeared to be asleep. She thought about not moving, about staying beside him or moving away or going into the bedroom or leaving, thought about the ramifications of each of those actions or inactions. She made a decision, and touched his shoulder lightly.

"Skurs," she said, "You should go to bed." He lifted his head groggily, stared at her in puzzlement, then pulled himself to his feet, almost knocking over the bottle of kanar.

"Yes, a fine idea," he agreed, and staggered toward the bedroom. Jevah sat for a moment, again considering the ramifications of various actions, and then lowered the lights and joined him in the bedroom. He was sleeping already; she settled into the available space and tried to stop her own whirling thoughts enough to rest.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When the lights brightened in the morning, Skurs was still sleeping, seemingly having not moved during the night. His hair was disheveled, making him look younger, more vulnerable. Jevah turned away. _These are the occupiers, the oppressors_ , she reminded herself, and spent her time in the refresher, preparing for her shift. When she had finished, she found Skurs sitting at the edge of the bed, not moving, and she went to the replicator and ordered a raktajino, extra strong. When she pressed it into his hands, he gulped the hot liquid, barely glancing at her, looking instead at the chronometer. He cursed, or Jevah assumed it was a curse, based on the vehemence of his tone. When he headed toward the refresher, Jevah straightened the bed and ordered breakfast, reversing their roles of the previous day. She had eaten by the time he came out; he signaled for a guard and waved her toward the door without another word.

 _Better and better_ , she thought sarcastically. He had said nothing; did she attend him that night? Or would he prefer to be alone? Whatever he had seen in that message had disturbed him greatly; she had seen no signs in his quarters that he indulged in strong drink often. She could only hope his mood would not be repeated; it would be too easy for him to be continually drunk, and turn to abuse, as did many when consumed with drink or drugs.

At her console that day, Jevah realized that she had left the pass in Skurs' quarters, and paled. She wished she could see some path, some future in these days, something she could plan for or against, but it was all murky, a branch of choices that seemed to all have twisty, unseen endings. She was again contemplating her choices for that evening when Skurs began one of his occasional circles of the room, and dropped the pass on her console without a word. Binna looked at her questioningly, and Jevah just shook her head. _Do not ask_ , the look said. She spent time at the mid-day break with Binna, wondering how much she could discuss with the other woman.

Binna saved the effort. "He wants you to keep coming back, does he?" she asked quietly.

Jevah shrugged. "This pass is something designed for a long time, not something used once and discarded." She looked at Binna despairingly. "I don't know what to do, how to behave, anything. I've had lovers before, Bajorans, and there was something… something simple and strong in our time, because we knew we might not have much of each other before a transfer or a death or a bomb took the other away. This—this is trying to be around a man who could kill me with no repercussions, who sees me as a disposable creature, and whom I must please or at least not anger. He could send me to the mines if he chose; and I can't do anything about it."

Binna nodded. "None of us can. Only the Resistance puts up any fight, and they often die from it. But in our positions, in this metal can, we can only survive. Whatever it takes. I fear the Occupation will still be going when I die… which could happen tomorrow."

"Is that what this is about now? Just surviving?" Jevah thought that was the most depressing thing she had heard for a long time. "I had hoped for more for this life… I had hoped to live, to dream, to explore-"

Binna snorted. "Those are the dreams of a child," she said severely as they returned to their stations. "Live in the real world and deal with the reality we see before us."

With no word from Skurs, Jevah returned to her dorm that evening, spending an hour with people she had come to call friends, or at least acquaintances, or those pulled together by a common disaster who built relationships on that commonality. She kept an eye on the chronometer, however, and at the third hour past shift change, she returned to the guard station for an escort to the officers' level and Skurs' quarters. He was absent, but the door slid aside for her, and she wondered if he had programmed it to admit her. She showered and changed, and sat down in her preferred chair, finding a padd on the arm with what looked like books listed in the menu. Some were computer and systems manuals relating to life support on the station, some seemed to be completely random philosophical treatises, and one appeared to be a novel set on Cardassia Prime. She began to read that one, finding the writing ponderous and florid, with over-written descriptions of patriotic families sacrificing all for the state, all the characters the same except for generic descriptive changes.

Finally, after trying to read the thing for over an hour, she flung it aside. The other books were not appealing, and she skimmed through the life support systems manual, marking certain areas for further study. Several hours more and Skurs had still not appeared; Jevah decided that while she was forced by circumstances to be here, she was not forced to be awake for an empty room. She went to the bed and took the side that Skurs usually left for her, the padd dropping from her lax fingers after a while.

She did not notice the time when Skurs came in; it was dark, and she pretended to be asleep when he staggered into the room and fell onto the bed. He pulled her toward him, and she didn't move, but it did nothing to dissuade him. He turned her onto her back, started moving his hands over her body, but after a few minutes he slowed, then turned away and seemed to fall asleep almost instantly; Jevah moved to the far edge of the bed and stared into the darkness for an hour before she could sleep again.

When she woke at her usual time, he was sleeping heavily, smelling of some strong drink. She dressed and left without waking him, carefully taking the pass with her, and leaving the padd on the chair where it had been the night before. As before, he treated her no differently from the other workers during the day.

Occasional rumors swept the worker areas; the workers in the LSC did not repeat them while on site. While the Cardassian soldiers and supervisors did not have the sensitive hearing of the Bajoran workers, they were subtle enough to pick up hints and rumors from overheard words. Nights, Jevah continued to return to Skurs' quarters, where they spent most evenings in silence while he worked at his console or stared out the viewport, and while he was not affectionate, he did demonstrate to Jevah what seemed to be a healthy interest in sex.

Jevah spent time reading; occasionally she carried sewing work for her acquaintances to the quarters and worked on mending garments; occasionally she was able to do some repair of decorative work.

Several tendays later, almost halfway through her shift, she felt the station shudder, and started seeing alarms and flow rate drops all over her board. The room burst into noise; everyone was calling for help, and smoke started curling in through the ventilation system. Skurs was shouting into his comunit, glancing over every station as he circled, sending emergency response and repair teams to a single part of the infrastructure. The workers in the room panicked; some clutched their consoles and continued to scan for readings; others ran for the door and away from the acrid smoke that continued to fill the room. Jevah was torn between either course; she had no way to know how bad the damage was or how much their work was needed. She certainly owed no favors to the Cardassians, but too many of her own people were trapped aboard this station, and should the damage spread or not be contained, they could be at risk.

The smoke from the ventilator turned black, flowing into the room like oil, and the next time she looked around, she and Binna were the only workers remaining in the room. Skurs stood between them, directing them in re-routing the power flows, the fuel and coolant flows away from the damaged part of the station, or closing them off completely. After the months of working over the console, Jevah had a good idea how it worked, but did not have the confidence to do the things he directed until that time, following orders, learning as she went.

After what seemed like days but was probably only a few hours, the smoke began to clear, the air not to burn, and the alarms to calm. Makeshift repairs had been made, enough to seal off the affected sections, and any still living had been rescued. Jevah coughed into her tunic, the neckline pulled up to cover her mouth and nose, and risked a deep breath. She coughed, choked, and when a bottle of water appeared in front of her, she grabbed at it and drank deeply. Another bottle appeared in front of Binna, and she too drank it all without stopping. To her surprise, Skurs had brought the water; the three of them were the only ones still there when the next shift workers began to appear.

They walked out together, Binna turning one way at the door where the guard waited, Jevah turning to follow Skurs, in her now-usual pattern. They took the back stairs to the residence level, and after sharp questioning by the guards, returned to the quiet of Skurs' rooms. Jevah dived gratefully into the shower, getting the stink of smoke out of her hair and clothing, before returning to the replicator for more water. She had collapsed on the couch with a third glass before Skurs moved away from his console. Jevah could see that something had affected him, before he stood up and moved toward the 'fresher. He cleaned up, gathered a large glass of water, and settled onto one of the chairs in the room.

"Do you know what happened?" she asked, cautious about disturbing his thoughts.

"An explosive. A bomb. Placed at the most critical nexus of the coolant and fuel systems. Had it not been controlled, it could have cut off life support for the entire station, and destroyed a good part of that ring."

Jevah shook her head. She could understand the Resistance' efforts to make the occupiers uncomfortable enough to leave, but she felt the potential loss of life of the Bajoran people was too high a risk to pay. _The Cardassians kill enough of us_ , she thought bitterly, _we don't need to be killing our own as well_.

"You could have run," Skurs noted. "You could have gotten to safety."

"There were more at risk than me," she retorted. "If it were just me, I would have- but there are too many people on this station, mine and yours, to jeopardize their lives with my own fear."

He looked at her carefully. "I did not expect such dedication from a Bajoran, nor that kind of self-sacrifice."

Jevah turned on the couch to face him. "Do you think us so much less than your own people, that we would have no sense of self-sacrifice, no morality, no—sense of duty?"

He looked at her quizzically. "If you were not inferior, you would not have been so easily conquered or occupied for these years. Your technology was a hundred years behind ours, your defenses pathetic."

"Not every society starts at the exact same time and progresses at the same rate. That's not a fair method of valuation of a species' hierarchy."

"It is how we evaluate ourselves and others."

"But is it the right way? Or do you simply use that as an excuse to keep expanding a non-viable empire?" Jevah was surprised at the depth of her anger. She knew that Cardassian saw her people as less, but she had not known the reasons for it, and now found those reasons wanting.

Skurs leaned back. "Cardassia is hardly non-viable; we have existed as an Empire and a culture for thousands of years."

"But can you exist without constantly expanding and taking resources from other planets to support your core? If any of your planets were cut off from another, could they survive by themselves? Or would half the people starve or freeze to death?"

Skurs grimaced. "They would freeze to death on your planet, perhaps, but not on any of the planets we occupy."

"The point is, are they self-sufficient? Is your Empire self-sufficient? or is it dependent on expansion and conquering?"

"That has no relevance. The Empire easily conquered your planet; we are using it as we see fit."

Jevah shrugged. "So what happens when our resources are exhausted? Do you attack the Klingons next? The Federation?"

Skurs looked out the viewport at the unchanging stars. "It is not my decision to make. I am a relatively low rank; the Empire is governed by Central Command. It is my duty to carry out the orders passed through my superiors."

"But don't you ever question whether those orders are moral? Are right?"

"The orders contribute to the strength of the Empire. That is moral and right."

"And if your Empire demanded you die, would that also be moral and right?"

"If the Empire demanded it, yes. The life of the Empire is more important than any single life, Cardassian, or otherwise."

Jevah sighed. "I cannot agree. My life is as important to me as yours is to you, and I would not care to die for an Empire that believes I am less of a person than you."

"Do you not perceive that you are inferior to Cardassians?"

"No, never! Our culture is old, we had space flight hundreds of years ago. We have a rich history of arts, sciences, literature, philosophy. There is nothing I can see that makes us less than you, except that right now you hold weapons over us. We hold life at a higher value than you, who would throw it away for a moment's convenience."

"The Occupation is reality. Why not accept it?"

"Because it is based on a false premise—that Bajorans are unable to take care of themselves, and are squandering a world that can be better used by others. We are not inferior, and we have the same rights to live as any sentient species."

Skurs sighed. "It is not likely that we will convince the other. But I applaud your conviction. And I was surprised at your steadiness during the emergency."

Jevah shrugged again. "I did what I felt I had to do, to save lives."

"Even Cardassian lives?"

"Even Cardassians have the right to live. It would be better if they didn't deny that ability to others."

Skurs stood, joined Jevah on the couch, and pulled her next to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, more comfortable with the physical intimacy now, wondering at the discussion. Did he truly see her, see all Bajorans, as children? As somehow less able? And could that mindset ever change? Or was it something so deeply ingrained into his being, into all Cardassians' being, that they could never exist except as complete enemies? If that was true, what did that say about her ability to cohabit with him? _'Well_ ,' she scoffed at herself, ' _it is hardly a relationship. He uses you for sex, you get a more comfortable bed, decent food, and hot water. He must think it a fair exchange_.'

She shifted uneasily, drawing Skurs' attention, and he pulled her into his lap and breathed into her hair, the tickling warmth sending delicious shivers down her back. She closed her eyes and leaned against him, feeling his hands roaming her body, his mouth touching her skin like the kiss of a moth. She twisted her upper body to face him, pulled his shirt apart and ran her hands over his chest, leaving feathery touches over the areas of skin she knew were particularly sensitive, and his hands tightened convulsively before he pulled her into a kiss. He pulled her robe aside, fumbled for his pants, and lifted her to a straddling position, lowering her onto himself fully, groaning into her hair. They rocked together, breathing harshly, and when Jevah arched her back, Skurs leaned forward and caught the tip of her breast in his teeth, nibbling like a child with new food. She cried out, mingled pain and delight, and they crested the wave and crashed together onto the shore.

For long moments, neither of them moved, breathing heavily, caught in the aftermath of a withdrawing tide. Then Skurs sighed, caught her face in his hands, and kissed her deeply, slowly. Jevah looked at him, stunned. He usually just fell asleep after sex, or walked into the 'fresher for another shower. He had never held her, never seemed to show anything more than just arousal. This was something different, something more intense, than he had ever shown before, and it rattled her to her very core.

They retired to the bed in exhaustion, Skurs falling asleep almost immediately, and Jevah stared at his profile, so different from any she had ever known, trying to understand him, her, them, as she drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Jevah had been sharing the Cardassian's quarters for almost six months now, and the security staff stationed at the entryways had become accustomed to her coming and going; no longer harassing her or casting slurs at her as she passed. For her part, Jevah did not try to incite them, nodding respectfully, eyes lowered, as she passed by, standing out of the way if more than one were moving down the passageway. They no longer seemed to regard her as an interloper, but at least as someone who could be tolerated in their presence. Still inferior, certainly, but not a threat. It occurred to her that this relaxation could be a mistake; if a Resistance agent were to be selected as a bedmate for a Cardassian, they could certainly wreak a lot of havoc. She admired the Resistance, sympathized deeply with their goal of a free Bajor, but had some issues with their methods; the results were often a crackdown of authority, deaths, cut rations, destruction.

The aftermath of the bomb in the maintenance ring had been an example; several Bajorans were identified as having built and planted the bomb and were executed in the usual Cardassian style of a foregone trial. Rations in the Bajoran sector were cut, making Jevah feel very guilty over her plentiful dinners with Skurs, and the availability of cooking fuel was reduced to every other day. The Cardassians, however, had celebrated the people who helped control the situation; the Prefect had held a dinner party, inviting those most involved in the efforts that controlled the damage and rescued the wounded. Skurs had attended; he returned a bit inebriated but he had refused to discuss the dinner with her.

"Skurs," Jevah began one night, "I know that your people admire and enjoy witty conversation and social situations. Why do you not partake of such? I know that you used to spend time in the bar and with others; now you spend all your free time here."

He stared at her for a long time, then shut down his console and moved to a chair, as usual staring at the stars. "Being from a middle-class merchant's family, I did not have the education or the tutoring that the ruling families are raised with. I enjoy the conversation; I am not a talented enough orator to take part. As such, I spend the entire time looking for something to say that could contribute, and rarely find it until the opportunity is long past." He poured a glass of wine, sipped it. "Education I had in plenty, but there is a facility with the language of conversation that some people find natural and others struggle with. I was never easy enough to fit in with the higher ranks, and the conversation of the lower ranks is not something I enjoy." He might have made a disgusted face, but caught himself and took another drink of wine.

Jevah hesitated, wondered what she could say. As a Bajoran, raised during the occupation, her education had been strictly functional, restricted to what could serve the rulers, limited to what other books she could find on her own. "Conversation doesn't have to be witty and high-level to be enjoyed; nor does it need to be crude to be eschewed. There are things that we could—perhaps—talk about, with each other."

He looked at her. "Are you bored, then, sitting here every night until it is time to sleep or bed?"

"No, she confessed, "I keep myself busy. But—after all this time, I still barely know you."

"You wish to know me?"

"You have been my—my lover—for some time now, but I know almost nothing about you. We have spent months in each other's presence, but we hardly speak."

"Conversation is just not a habit I have ever developed." He shrugged. "I know the Prefect loves to converse; he spent most of that dinner party either talking or inciting others to speak. Even his – woman—" (he obviously avoided another word) "took part, a small amount, and he seemed to tolerate it."

He looked at her slyly. "There is conversation-in the lounge."

Jevah shuddered. The 'lounge' was where the "comfort women" interacted with the Cardassian officers, and while the women were segregated, some stories had gotten out, and she had no desire for such interaction. "I would rather avoid that conversation," she said quietly.

"As would I." He looked away. "At some point, however, there might be no way to avoid it… the Prefect sponsors the occasional social event, and there has been mention of a dinner or party. All the attendees are to be partnered." He looked back at Jevah. "If I am directed to attend, you will accompany me." He glanced away again. "If I am promoted, as seems likely, I would be attending more… those events become mandatory at a certain level."

Jevah felt herself go pale. Her one encounter with Dukat had been enough; the idea of spending time in the presence of his senior staff in a social atmosphere was frightening. Skurs seemed to share her feelings. "I will not seek out the attention of an invitation," he said. "I would wish to avoid it as much as you."

Jevah felt a pang inside as she gained further understanding of this man. Perhaps he had pulled her in for more reasons than just sharing his bed. Perhaps she protected him from unwanted social interactions as much as he protected her. There were so many different types of people among the Bajorans… surely the Cardassians must have some who were not brutal and violent, who felt uncomfortable with some of what was happening. For the first time, she went to him, sat beside him, and circled his shoulders with her arms. Maybe they were in this together, somehow, each serving as a shield for the other.

Skurs stiffened for a moment, as if surprised, and then leaned back into her embrace, pulling her hands in front of his chest, and holding them with his own. After sitting quietly for some time, he dimmed the lights to the night setting, and stood, pulling her with him into the bedroom

Again, smoke rolled through the ventilation system; this time it was yellow and acrid, and the comunit crackled with shouts and orders. Air supplies were shut off and rerouted; the smoke trickled to a halt, leaving a sour taste and sore throat, but the shouts and orders from the comunit escalated in intensity and volume; the words unclear but the urgency and panic behind them evident. Jevah exchanged glances with Binna and some of the others; they were tense but sat motionless, knowing better than to move around without permission.

A low-level soldier ran into the room and exchanged hurried comments with Skurs, who handed him the comunit and ran out, drawing his weapon as he exited the room. The young soldier, clearly nervous in his sudden responsibility, kept his hand on his disruptor and watched the workers with deep suspicion.

Shouts were heard from outside; the comunit continued to ring with shouted orders and an occasional sound of disruptor fire. An alarm on Jevah's board went off; she slowly raised her hand to signal the soldier at the door. He walked over cautiously; drawing his weapon, and Jevah explained the readings to him, the coolant leak that needed to be re-routed away from the pipe break; the sequence of key touches that would make that happen. He finally allowed it, watching carefully as she went through the process, explaining at each step what she was doing and what it would accomplish.

The alarm stopped; the coolant flow was re-routed and Jevah suggested that he needed to send a repair and response team to the site of the leak. Eyes hard, he put in the request, and relaxed slightly when he obviously received a response indicating the team was on their way. An alarm flared at another console; that worker followed Jevah's lead by explaining it to the tense soldier, and again the solution was reached and followed without an escalation of his obvious fear.

The shouts had died down by the end of the shift; the gasses that occasionally drifted up the corridor had cleared, but the relief shift did not appear, and the soldier reluctantly allowed them staggered breaks to the facilities.

The second shift dragged on; the infrastructure events appeared to be under control, and there was no more smoke, but the sound of disruptor fire still occasionally echoed in the corridor. The comunit gradually quieted; the soldier's evident tension ebbing away as he gained some confidence that whatever was happening was mostly past and he would soon be relieved.

It was nearly time for the next shift change when the relief shift workers appeared, herded by more soldiers with drawn disruptors. The workers were dirty and smoke-stained, sporting fresh cuts and bruises, one with an obviously broken arm hanging at his side. They slid into seats, relieving their counterparts, and the soldiers who had brought them waved their weapons, showing the standing workers to the door. The group started to escort them down the hall; Jevah turned and showed one soldier her pass, but he insisted she accompany the group back to the barracks area. After carefully reviewing the pass, the soldier agreed to escort her to the officer's residence level, and turned her over to the soldiers at the security stations, who were tense and suspicious, also examining her pass carefully as if they had not seen her every day for the last several months. They searched her, and one of them escorted her to the door of Skurs' quarters and waited while she went inside.

No news had circulated, but Jevah had no doubt that something had happened on the Promenade level, where the crowding was worst and the living most chaotic. The smells of sleepy-gas, the sounds of disruptor fire, the obviously injured replacement shift, all spoke to something disastrous, and she paced the floor, worrying, waiting, wondering what might have happened, occasionally feeling gratitude for her safety in this place, even in the midst of such troubles. She felt selfish for those thoughts, knowing that others were not so fortunate, nevertheless she was pleased now that she was here and not in the common labor area.

She had finally fallen asleep on the couch when the door slid aside; by the chronometer it was almost "morning". Skurs stood inside the door, disruptor held at his side, his uniform covered with burns and scorch marks, his skin smudged and filthy. His hands were bloody; his eyes dull with exhaustion, and he stood motionless for several long moments before he holstered his weapon and moved blindly toward the 'fresher. He didn't acknowledge Jevah, didn't seem to even see her, and after coming out of the 'fresher cleaner but no less stunned, he staggered to the bed and collapsed on it, lying on his back, staring at the darkened ceiling.

Jevah took her time in the shower before she joined him next to the bed, hoping he would be sleeping. He still stared upward, not blinking, not moving, and she took his hand and sat beside him, saying nothing. His hand, limp at first, began to gain tension, finally holding onto hers at a level just shy of painful. Not letting go, she circled the bed, climbed in beside him, and circled him with her arms. He was deeply disturbed by whatever had happened, and Jevah knew only that his pain called out to her for comfort.

"There was a riot," he finally said, his voice hoarse. "They used gas grenades loaded with a nerve agent. People were dropping dead all around; some Bajorans had masks and were ambushing the soldiers fighting the fires. We- shot them, all of them. They killed- three of us. We shot-" his voice broke off raggedly. "There's no-one left alive in that sector. No-one."

Jevah felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. There were hundreds of people who lived on that level, casual labor for the ore processing station, the merchants, the cleaning crews. Some of them were undoubtedly part of the group who had started the riot, but it was very likely that most of them were victims of it, people who could not get out of the way in time. Her skin crawled... she was torn between Skurs' obvious discomfort with the actions he had been ordered to take, and her revulsion at her own proximity to someone who could be part of such a thing as the killing of everyone in the vicinity.

She felt as stunned as he seemed to be, her mind whirling over the thoughts of so many dead, so many injured, while she was safe and warm and well-fed in the quarters of one of the people who had done the killing, occupied the planet, abused the populace and resources. At least, she thought he seemed to be upset by it, and not complacent, as she had seen other soldiers behave after killings or beatings. And he obviously had not enjoyed the experience.

"The- the ore processors are being drafted to move the bodies, and to clean up. We- we go back to normal schedule, after four hours of rest." He breathed deeply. "I don't know if I can sleep- I can see them looking at me as they die-"

"Close your eyes," she told him, "and think of something that has given you pleasure in the past... something far away from here. Sometime long ago when things were right and beautiful and good-"

"There's nothing but death," he murmured, but his heartbeat had slowed, his breathing calmed, and she repeated herself, directing him toward something that would take him away from the horror of the night past. He finally settled into sleep, and Jevah turned away, wondering how she could deal with the knowledge, so direct now, that this Cardassian had shot, probably killed, many of her people that night. Nightmarish thoughts brought her dreams to a dark, dark place when she finally slept.

It seemed only minutes later when an alarm sounded, and they made their weary way through the routine of breakfast and shower, although neither of them ate much, turning away from the food with little appetite. The work center was quiet, subdued; the third shift workers exhausted.

The man with the broken arm was still at his console; Jevah pulled a strip of cloth from her pocket and folded a sling for him, told him to get it splinted, and took her seat. Binna reached out a hand and squeezed hers; she looked pale and drawn.

"It could have been us," she whispered, glancing around the room.

Jevah nodded, heartsick still. "It was us," she replied. "It was all of us."

The day was long; there were maintenance calls to be made to repair the damage done by the rioters and the disruptor fire; smoky and noxious odors still rolled through the ventilation system at intervals, and everyone was exhausted from double shifts and too little sleep. It finally ended; everyone staggered away, still escorted by twice the usual number of armed soldiers. ' _That_ ,' Jevah thought, ' _will go on for a while_.' She was able to leave with Skurs only because he was armed; the soldier in charge of the escort would have argued, she could see, except that he was outranked. The search at the residence level was repeated by more exhausted, angry soldiers, and only Skurs' presence kept her from being shoved around more than she was, moved from one area of the security station to another for the search by rough jerks on her arm.

They finally made it back to his quarters (she never thought of them as 'hers'), and both collapsed on the couch, staring dully at the empty bulkhead in front of them. After a few minutes, Jevah forced herself to her feet, poured wine for both of them, and returned with the bottle. Skurs drank his down and waved for another; Jevah filled his glass again and sipped hers. The next one he took more slowly, turning toward the viewport and watching the stars as they slowly drifted past. Jevah sat motionless for many minutes, then plodded to the 'fresher, hurrying through a shower and changing into the slightly worn robe that was her only other garment.

Skurs had not moved when she returned, and she sat on the couch beside him, no appetite for an evening meal, no appetite for anything. Skurs drank steadily, emptying the bottle and looking around for more, but apparently did not see anything he thought consumable. Jevah finally decided to push; she urged him to his feet, got him into the shower, and started the water, setting the temperature to his preferred setting. He finally started moving, and she left him alone in the shower, darkening the lights in the quarters and getting into bed, staring at the ceiling as she tried desperately to process the events of the past days.

Hundreds killed, for rioting, for trying to destroy the station and attacking the soldiers, for killing three of them. Probably only a few people had started the riot; others would have been caught up in the excitement and joined the mob; still more would have fled into the presumed safety of their quarters, which turned out to be unsafe in the extreme. The area was probably cleared by now, she thought dully, the bodies dumped into the incinerator fires that heated the ore and burned away the waste product.

Her dark musings were interrupted when Skurs came out of the 'fresher and settled onto the bed, stretching out beside her. She did not move; she pretended to be asleep, and hoped he could not see the tears leaking out of her eyes, running sideways down her cheek. A hand stroked her hip; but it was a tentative touch, and she didn't move. "Jevah," he said, then repeated her name when she failed to answer. She turned to face him. He gathered her into his arms, pulling her face against his neck, holding her close, as if for comfort. "I have been a support systems technician," he said, "never a soldier on the front lines. This-this-" He shuddered. "The others- celebrate this as a victory over the revolt, mourn our dead, call them valiant- it does not feel victorious. It feels like ashes."

Jevah nodded against his skin. "So many dead," she murmured, "for what purpose? What did they achieve? I would see Bajor free, but... this cost is so high." She wasn't even sure he had heard her. After a time, his hands started moving against her back, and they took what comfort from each other they could find.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Skurs walked into the quarters with a package under his arm; Jevah had never seen him carry anything in before, and the place was still bare of any personal adornment. He dropped it on the bed and continued into the 'fresher; coming out later looking refreshed, but grim, as if he faced some unpleasant duty.

"I have been promoted. First-level Gil. I am now at the level where attendance at the officers' functions is required. For the next event, in five days, you are required as well."

Jevah drew her knees up to her chest. "I never wanted this," she whispered, "I don't want to be around them."

Skurs dropped to a seat beside her. "It is the reality of existence. It cannot be denied or changed."

She nodded. "I know. But I can wish." She looked up at him, putting her book aside. "I have nothing to wear."

Skurs sighed. "I have brought something. I had not realized until today that you have virtually no other clothes. The dress-" he shrugged. "It is the style worn by the officer's women. "

She looked down. "Maybe that will make it easier."

"In this case, each officer will have an escort, so there should be no assumptions made about anyone's status. At other events, it will not be so simple."

"You won't leave me alone there, will you?"

"No. It would not be safe."

Jevah's schedule had changed to allow one free day in ten; Skurs obtained permission for a second day bracketing the party. _One to prepare_ , she told herself, _one to recover_. The dress was a simple shift of some soft fabric that hugged her body; it was a dark, rich red that complemented her dark hair and coloring, with long slits up either side. Skurs had brought cosmetics and hair ornaments as well, but Jevah used them sparingly. She did not want to do anything to embarrass herself; that would reflect back on him and she had come to accept that her safety in this environment depended on his accommodation, his protection.

When the day came, she could hardly eat. She bathed, dressed her hair, applied the cosmetics, but she felt so awkward and uncomfortable that she could hardly stand. Skurs came out in what she assumed was a dress uniform: chest plate polished, some extra braid on the seams, everything shiny and new. He looked down at himself, fiddled with his rank insignia. "I have not worn this for several years," he said wryly, adjusting the badges until they were just right.

"I feel sick," Jevah confessed. Her stomach was lurching, her heart fluttering, and she felt dizzy.

"What have you eaten?"

"Nothing."

Skurs ordered bread and cheese from the replicator and encouraged her to eat a few bites; it was all she could choke down.

"Drink sparingly. The drinks will be strong. Drink as much water as you can, that will help with the effects of the drinks."

"Ahh, Prophets, my hands are shaking."

"Those are words you should not use," he reminded her. "Your religion has been forbidden." He checked the hang of his jacket. "We must go."

They walked down the hallway, mostly ignored by other passers. A few other couples joined them, the officers boisterous and happy; the escorts varied in their reactions. Some of the other women eyed Jevah curiously; she was dressed similarly, but was obviously not someone they had seen before.

They reached a large room lined with multiple viewports; it was alive with flowers and sculpture, and a long table in the room was set with what Jevah supposed was formal dinnerware. Glasses sparkled and tinkled as wine was sipped; she responded to the pressure of Skurs' hand, and turned toward a long counter where a worker served drinks from various bottles stacked up behind him. Skurs ordered for both of them, and Jevah pretended to sip at the glass, barely letting it touch her lips. They wandered the room, Skurs speaking to other officers, Jevah with a faint smile frozen on her lips. A few of the women standing next to the officers had that same wooden look; others, however, most were sipping their drinks and chattering happily around their escorts. She was introduced to a few, and eventually they walked past the corner where the Prefect and his lady stood, surrounded by a small group of officers.

Jevah watched the woman closely; she did not know her name. She leaned into the Prefect, her eyes adoring and warm; her manner intimate. She was so very obviously in love with him that Jevah felt a pang; how could this woman have come to feel this way about the person who epitomized the Occupation?

Their turn to exchange words came as Skurs slowly moved through the crowd toward the Prefect. "Ah, yes," Dukat murmured as Skurs said her name, "the little technician." He introduced his lady as Naprem, and pulled Skurs aside for a word, leaving Jevah and Naprem a little apart.

"I hear," Naprem said, "from the Prefect that Skurs has just been promoted. You must be very proud."

Jevah smiled thinly. "It was not my accomplishment to be proud of," she said quietly.

Naprem sipped her drink and held the glass before her mouth. "You must appear to enjoy yourself more," she murmured. "Your safety depends on it, on that and more."

Jevah laughed lightly, as if someone had said something amusing. "Oh, I have known this for some time. I tread very carefully; you must believe me."

Naprem slipped a hand on her arm as if they were old friends. "I do. If you can hang onto this one, do it; some of the senior officers are–-hard on their friends." She lightened her voice, as if suddenly aware that they were being observed. "You must come visit, spend a day with me."

Jevah smiled wryly. "I have work during the day; I monitor one of the console in Life Support Ops."

Naprem's eyes widened. "You are not—one of—No, of course not." She let her tinkling laugh float over the room. "Well, perhaps we shall take a day sometime soon and spend it together." She turned away, back to the Prefect, who was just finishing his conversation with Skurs. They nodded agreeably at each other and Skurs backed out of the corner group, his hand firmly on Jevah's elbow. His grip was tight; she would be bruised the next day. This night would be a trial for both of them.

After another time of wandering about the room exchanging pleasantries with officers whose names Jevah refused to remember, the group settled to the long table, and dinner. An officer sat on her left; Skurs on her right; and Jevah determined to keep very quiet. The man on her left had a cruel look about him, and she wanted to do nothing to draw his attention in any way. His partner was quiet; her smile stiffened occasionally when the Cardassian's hand wandered across her back or under the table. Jevah kept her head turned away, following Skurs' lead wherever possible with the utensils, the glasses, the courses. She nibbled at whatever he ate, following him by a few bites, and didn't touch anything he didn't.

The food was good, she supposed; some of it must be Cardassian, but she mostly pushed it around her plate. Her appetite had again deserted her; the conversation flowing about the room made it evident that both she and Skurs were outmatched in witty repartee. He leaned over, put an arm around her waist, and pulled her close. "I am going to appear to become intoxicated," he murmured into her ear, "and act as if you distract me from all else in the room." Jevah touched his cheek with her lips, moving her mouth close to his ear.

"Yes," she agreed. She burned with embarrassment when Skurs' hand wandered her body, but watching the room through her lowered lashes, saw that they were not unique at the table. The Prefect and his lady sat at the head of the table, above it all, engaged in the conversation, but showing in their eyes and looks that they found the behavior of the others amusing.

"Don't be so angry." Skurs nuzzled her ear. "Relax. Look as if you have been drinking, enjoying yourself."

She slipped an arm around his waist, holding her wine glass with her other hand, and tried to project the attitude of a slightly tipsy woman interested in the evening and perhaps contemplating the events afterward. She felt attention lessen; someone had been observing her, observing them.

As the dinner ended and the group moved to another room, this one outfitted with comfortable chairs and couches, Skurs found a seat near the wall and pulled Jevah onto his lap. "It could get—a little wild now, from things I have heard in the past. Do not leave, and do not be surprised at anything." Wild was an understatement; to Jevah's horror; one of the officers pulled a half-undressed woman out of the room and, by the noise, proceeded to have her in the hallway. Another couple settled onto a sofa facing the viewport and disappeared behind it; the noises there left little doubt of what occurred. The Prefect watched everything with that sardonic smile on his face, and when Jevah saw his gaze traveling in her direction, she leaned into Skurs and kissed him, turning her face and body away from the penetrating looks she feared from Dukat.

"He sees too much," she whispered against Skurs' lips. He hissed her into silence, then pushed her gently away and reached for a drink, emptying it in one swallow. To her chagrin, he pulled her back into him and began nibbling on her neck, his mouth slowly moving down to where the loose-necked folds of the dress barely covered her breasts. In spite of herself, she shivered; he was delicious with his teeth and mouth, and the fact that they were in a room full of other people made it both exciting and shameful. The wine she'd sipped made itself known, and she shuddered against him. He pulled back, teasing her, but his eyes were cold and calculating, and she shivered again, this time in fear. This was a dangerous time; she could not let her body's weakness betray their caution.

For another hour they sprawled in the chair, pretending to explore each other, while the room got more and more chaotic. Jevah was not so much shocked as furious as the Cardassian officers treated the women who accompanied them as nothing but toys, and couples began to leave the room, moving toward the women's quarters for more private dalliances. She buried her head against Skurs' neck, pretending to kiss his neck ridges, until the lights began to fade. "The Prefect is gone," Skurs whispered. "We can leave now."

He stood, pulled her close and kissed her lingeringly, his hands pressing her against him intimately, but she could tell he was not aroused. It was an act, and she managed to maintain her part until they were out the door and well down the hall, around the curve of the station and out of sight. They walked quickly to his quarters, and sealed the door behind them, before Jevah ran to the 'fresher to be violently ill. She pulled off the dress, scrubbed the cosmetics and perfumes, the lingering odors of drink and food, from her skin, and wrapped herself in her old robe before returning to the main room.

"It is not the same in every command," Skurs said quietly. "The Prefect, in this case, has left intact the precedents set by the previous governor of the planet. He does not partake, not publicly, but he seems to find the whole thing amusing."

"What he finds amusing, I find horrible." Jevah walked to the replicator; now that the evening was over, her appetite had returned, and she ordered soup and bread.

"For two, please," Skurs said, as he disappeared into the 'fresher.

They ate after he returned, the hunger they had not felt during the dinner manifesting as if they had survived some exhausting ordeal. "We did survive it," Jevah murmured. "I wasn't sure I could."

"We might be able to skip the next one," Skurs commented, "but we cannot avoid every one. We will have to have a plan, for each time. The Prefect—he reads people, and he probably knows exactly what we were doing and why. He will use that."

"What happens to people who—don't participate?"

"They usually don't last long—they transfer to other posts, to lesser stations, to ships. And they do it alone." He looked at her significantly. "Because you have been to one of these—gatherings—you would become identified with the officers' women. If I am transferred, you would join them."

Jevah's eyes filled with tears; she turned away so that Skurs could not see her. This night had been a demonstration of her worst fears. If she had to be selected as bedmate by a Cardassian, at least he had been kind in his way, not cruel, more indifferent than anything. Having to spend nights with some of the officers in that room would be more than she could handle.

Jevah woke early the next day; as a technical worker, a day off was something unheard of. Two days? She didn't know what she would do with herself. Skurs slept heavily; he had consumed many more drinks than she had. She stretched in the bed, feeling lazy for the first time in - years? How long had it been since she had a whole day that was not filled with the demands of work, domestic or otherwise? She amused herself by considering an idea she had heard of from others- a vacation, a leisure trip, merely for relaxation, just to get away from daily life. Such a thing was impossible in the station, in the worker / casual laborer community. The upper classes, the merchants on-planet whose services and products were still needed to support the populace, they were often able to take such trips, if they could get travel approval from the local authorities. That such approval usually required a bribe or other special services was a given.

"Special services." What an innocuous phrase for all manner of evils. She had heard of Bajorans who sold women to the Cardassians, who impressed members of their own families into servitude or to take their places in labor quotas for the mines. As there were occasionally a few kind Cardassians, there must also be some Bajorans who would sacrifice anyone else to protect their own profit and safety. These people were reviled by the ordinary Bajoran, even while their services and products were used when necessary; there were sometimes no other alternatives.

She heard Skurs' breathing pattern change beside her; he was waking up. His eyes opened and looked at her blankly for a moment, then he sighed. "We did it."

Jevah nodded, then shuddered as the full impact of the evening rushed back on her. "I was ready to run out at one point."

"I could tell," Skurs said quietly. He pulled her close and leaned his head on her shoulder. His breath was warm on her breast, and her skin tingled. He stroked a hand down her side, lingered over her hip, and Jevah shivered. He seemed to know exactly how to make her body respond, and when he finally moved atop her, she was more than ready.

They finished breakfast, and rather than immediately going to work on his console, Skurs brought a hot drink to one of the chairs facing the viewport. "There are ramifications about last night that we must discuss," he said. "You have now been seen by the senior officers, rather than just the common soldiers on this level. There is a possibility that you will be perceived as one of the group of available women, especially since I am new to this rank, and lower than others in this category."

Jevah sank into the couch cushions, once again feeling as if she'd been hit and the wind knocked out of her.

Skurs would not look at her. "I can avoid and forestall this, but there may come a time that I cannot stop it, should someone of much higher rank make demands. I might be able to get an exception from the Prefect, but that request requires judicious timing."

"What- what would happen if I- chose not to cooperate?" she whispered.

"You would be forced- and there are some who would enjoy that. If you proved completely recalcitrant, you would be-removed."

"I suspect that 'removed' is not a euphemism for sending me back to Bajor."

"You are correct. In this case, it is a much more permanent resolution."

"What- should I do?"

"Continue as you are. Work, return here, spend no time outside these quarters when not working. Stay by me in social situations- under all circumstances."

The danger of the new reality began to sink in, and Jevah curled up on the couch, wrapping her arms around herself.

"There are always worse alternatives," Skurs reminded her. "We must make the best of what we have, and seek to avoid or lessen any possible damaging implications."

 _Worse alternatives_ , Jevah reminded herself, _like being part of the group of women available to the senior officers; worse alternatives like being passed around like a toy amongst the common soldiers. Worse alternatives, like death_. She was torn between gratitude to Skurs for doing what he could to prevent those alternatives, and anger at him for picking her out of the technical workers in Life Support to share his bed. But Bajor was Occupied; Cardassians were the occupation force. Other than running away, ending her life, or joining the Resistance, what choices did she have? She was alive, meager as that life was, and deplored the collateral deaths too much to give herself to the Resistance or end her life. So coping with the current reality was truly the only choice that she had. She scoffed at herself. ' _Live with it'_ was a hopeful thought, in a world where she might not live long at all, now that she had come to the attention of the rulers of the world. She had come to accept the relative security of her position, with Skurs as her supervisor and protector, and that was now shaken again, split open to the core.

"What?" Skurs asked.

Jevah shrugged. "I just feel a little overwhelmed right now. I will adjust."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Quarterly inspection rolled around again; this time the room was prepared. Two senior officers and the Prefect observed while a variance generated an alarm and a repair team was dispatched. Jevah sat very still, exchanging nervous glances with Binna while the group circled the room. When they approached her console, they stopped; she turned to face them at a signal. The Prefect looked bored; Skurs was expressionless. The third of the group, a younger man who was probably an aide to the Prefect, was watching the door. The fourth member of the party was an older Cardassian of some rank; he eyed her closely. Jevah kept her head lowered. He reached out a hard hand and lifted her chin, tilting her head and examining her closely. Jevah could feel the color draining from her face as he stared at her; abruptly he dropped her chin and turned away, without a word or change of expression. She turned back to her console as the group moved away, and started to place her hands on the surface, to see that they were trembling violently. She remembered him from that party; he had been the cruel-looking man seated next to her.

Binna glanced behind her and caught her hand, squeezing hard for a moment before turning back to her own console. Jevah had told Binna a few details about the party and the potential consequences; she must understand what was happening, what could be happening now. She felt like she trembled the rest of the day; during the mid-day break she staggered into the hallway, with Binna urging her to move. "Come on," Binna urged, "you're Bajoran; be strong."

"Oh, Binna, I don't know if I can do this."

"That's what you said when you were first called to this man's rooms. You did it, you have made something of it, something that keeps you safe. You can do this too, you have to."

Jevah struggled to move her feet, pulling the shreds of her dignity together. She felt shamed, objectified, and humiliated, and she wanted nothing more than to hide someplace small where she couldn't be found. But Binna was right. And she couldn't just _stop_ existing, stop living, she had to move on, step by step. She scrubbed at her face, wiping tears away with her sleeve, and took a deep breath.

 _I can get through this_ , she told herself, _whatever happens_. She willed herself to believe it.

In the quarters that night, Jevah stood a long time in the water of the shower, hoping that it would drain the tension, the fear from her body, and at least leave her numb, feeling nothing. She settled onto the couch with a cup of tea, staring at nothing while the drink cooled in her hands.

Skurs left without speaking, and returned some time later. "I have seen the Prefect," he said abruptly. Jevah looked up, but his face was expressionless. He settled into a chair, turning partly away from her. "Gul Dukat, in spite of his own situation, was not impressed with my-lack of desire to share you. He believes that the privileges of rank must be preserved, and as I am the newest of the mid-level ranks, I must give way to my superiors."

Jevah took a deep breath. "So. All there is now is to wait for the inevitable."

Skurs didn't move. "It might not happen. You do not spend time with the others in the lounge area; he might forget your presence, especially if we do not attend the next several gatherings."

"I thought you could only get away with skipping one."

"I have some leave coming. We could skip one, and schedule the leave to overlap the next event."

"But-your leave-don't you want to use that go home?"

"There is no reason for me to travel there."

"I don't-want to jeopardize your position, Skurs." _Watching out for you watches out for me_.

He finally glanced her way. "You will not."

The expected "invitation" did not come. Jevah looked at herself in the mirror and hoped that she had not been seen as attractive as the women who served the senior officers. She felt bad for them, but her guilty sense of self-preservation allowed her to feel relieved about her status.

The routine continued; they generally spent their day off in quarters; once they went to the Ferengi bar's upper level and had dinner, watching people, but the discomfort of the inhabitants of the lower level suppressed Jevah's appetite so much that she did no more than push her food around on her plate. She ended up drinking too much and had to be supported back to the lift and then to the quarters.

"They look so- haunted," she said to Skurs as they sat on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the stars.

"Are they not used to it? Most are young enough to have been born after the beginning of the Occupation. It is all they have known."

Her head wobbled with the effort of marshalling an explanation. "They might have always known this life, but they can imagine a life where they are not always hungry, not scavenging for supplies, not working for a pittance if they earn any money at all. They can imagine a life where they can choose their own work, their own lives, and not be moved to another job, another land, at the whim of someone who sees them as nothing more than a resource."

Skurs shook his head. "I have been raised on the other side of this equation; it is very difficult for me to see most Bajorans as anything but a resource to be distributed as necessary. I do not condone cruelty, but- sometimes harsh measures are necessary."

Jevah tipped her head back onto the cushions. "We are as much people as you are," she murmured.

"Part of me knows this," he whispered against her ear, his breath sending shivers down her skin. "But part of me cannot break the habits of a lifetime." He pulled her close; his mouth trailed down her neck and sent a line of heat through her body.

The next party invitation was received and could not be avoided; Jevah found herself in a state of near-panic as the date approached. Skurs brought her yet another dress, not the simple tunic style of her previous gown, but a richly embroidered vest of rust and dark green to wear over a dress so dark that only the occasional shifting light revealed its color as deepest maroon. It was simple in design, the vest was the centerpiece and needed no other decoration. She gasped as she pulled it out of the package, and held the vest to herself. "It's beautiful," she told him. Skurs watched her as if she were a child opening presents, with a fond, indulgent look. "But-won't this draw attention?"

"Perhaps not. This is something like what high-born Cardassian women wear; I hope to send a subtle message."

He settled on the couch, and indicated that she should join him. "The other message is that you are to be treated like the Prefect's lady... not considered available, treated with respect. We will behave with dignity. If you have any doubts, watch the Prefect's lady for guidance." He shrugged. "It is all I have to try."

Jevah sighed. "It makes sense," she said, and went to dress.

This party was set up similarly to the last one; the room was full of circulating couples. Again Jevah watched the women; some glittered and laughed at the conversation, others seemed stiff, tired. She kept her face mostly impassive, a slight smile on her lips, passing bland greetings to those to whom she was introduced. The bar was busy; they obtained glasses of wine and retreated to a viewport, turned enough away to look as if they were watching the stars.

Skurs nodded at someone passing by, smiled benignly. "There is Gul Pinha, the one who was with the inspection team last quarter." Jevah smiled at him, as if he had said something witty, and pretended not to see the older man who strode by with a quietly passive girl on his arm.

He stopped slowly, turned around, as if he had planned it, and approached them. It took everything Jevah had to keep that smile on her face; she nodded to the taller man and then to his escort. "Skurs," he grated in a harsh, raspy voice, "congratulations on the promotion. It was long overdue."

"You honor me," Skurs replied, bowing slightly. Gul Pinha never looked away from Jevah and now he held out his hand for hers. Jevah extended her left hand; her right was securely tucked in the bend of Skurs' elbow. Pinha pulled her fingers to his mouth and brushed them with his lips, his eyes locked on hers. Jevah held onto that faint smile with everything she had, keeping her arm loose, not pulling away as she wished, trying to appear completely indifferent. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he released her, and she smiled at the Gul's companion, who had watched the interaction with complete indifference. "Let's get some wine," she said to the girl, and pulled her by the hand, away from the older man, away from the tension and anger in that tableau. They walked slowly to the bar, collected small glasses of autumn wine, and walked back without speaking.

The Gul was speaking to Skurs, using his height and his weight to lean over him like an angry father; Skurs was impassive and noncommittal, by his body language. "Perhaps another time," he finally said, and bowed himself away, taking Jevah's arm and turning her aside. They wandered the room again; Skurs guiding her toward or away from various groups of conversing officers. They finally joined one group of younger Cardassians and decorative escorts; the conversation was about work, the difficulties of keeping the station maintained and functioning. The workers were not mentioned, not directly; this was a conversation of engineers and technicians, not supervisors or overseers. The other women did not even pretend to be interested, but Jevah was actively engaged, listening to the conversation with fascination, and learning things that contributed to her picture of the internal structure of the station. It was like a body, she thought, with a circulatory, respiratory, and even digestive system; the Cardassian and Bajoran occupants more like parasites taking advantage of the host.

The dinner and following time of drinking and conversation were tolerable; Jevah found herself in conversation with one of the young engineering officers seated nearby, discussing the various computer systems that monitored the life systems of the station and how they interacted, the occasional conflicts, and the way the systems responded. It was actually a conversation she enjoyed; she was able to relax and enjoy the meal and the surroundings, until a chance look up the table showed Gul Pinha watching her with a slightly amused expression on his narrow face. She choked to silence, and spent the rest of the evening trying to recover the equilibrium she'd enjoyed for a short time.

Finally, back in Skurs' quarters, Jevah sighed. "I think we did much better at that one."

Skurs had seated himself with a glass of wine. "Perhaps."

"What did Pinha want, while I was away?"

"In a word? You."

She could feel the color drain from her face, and looked at Skurs. "I refused," he said shortly. "I may not be able to do so again." He drank deeply from his glass, refilled it. "To these officers, anyone or anything not properly identified as the—possession—of someone of higher rank, is available for the taking. They will not take a worker, but they will take someone—in your position."

"So he can't take me out of the LSC, but he can commandeer my non-working time. Just because he outranks you."

"Exactly."

"Will he?"

"From my knowledge of him, he will. Enough, so he thinks, to teach me a lesson."

She doubled over. She would have to spend a night—and perhaps more than one—with that – she couldn't even think of a word to describe how vile he made her feel.

Days passed, with no changes to the routine of their lives. Jevah began to relax, wondering if perhaps Pinha had gotten bored with the game. Several tendays after the party, Jevah returned to the quarters to find them empty. Skurs had been relieved earlier in the day; called to a meeting, they'd said. But by the end of the shift he had not returned, and when she prowled the rooms, she found his toiletries were gone from the 'fresher. She checked the small closet; his spare uniforms were gone, as was the small duffel he'd stored there. She grew frantic, looking for any trace of him in the spartan rooms, but found only a crumpled grey tunic in the darkest corner of the closet.

She was huddled on the couch, worrying herself into a panic, when the door slid open. Gul Pinha stood in the doorway, flanked by two security men. He looked her over, then turned away. "Come," the shorter guard said. When she did not move, he pulled her to her feet, relatively gently, but firmly. Jevah could feel panic building in her middle; her breath fluttered and the passageway seemed to spin around her. She could not see where she was being taken; at some point she lost track of the turns and corridors. When they slowed slightly, and she began to feel that they were near their destination, they halted, Gul Pinha turning to speak to a taller Cardassian. Jevah did not look up; she was having enough trouble just standing on her own.

"You have anticipated me," a pleasant baritone said. Gul Dukat. "My lady had asked for the company of this girl; I was coming to collect her. My thanks." He nodded, took Jevah's elbow, and turned her toward another corridor. Jevah glanced back; the soldiers looked blank, but Gul Pinha's face was contorted with fury. She did not look up, did not speak, and when a door opened onto a large room, furnished with comfortable, rich furniture, she stumbled. Dukat moved her to a chair, and settled her into it. "Naprem," he said pleasantly, "we have a caller."

Jevah sat, unable to feel or hear, as the room seemed to roar around her. A buzzing noise filled everything; she could see Dukat and his lady standing near an office door, speaking quietly. Her vision faded, her breath came short, and she was suddenly aware of a cup of tea held under her nose, the fragrant scent clearing her head almost immediately. She took the cup with trembling hands, clattering the delicate ceramics for a moment until she forced her hands to stillness. "Thank you," she murmured, and Naprem took up a cup of tea and sat down across from her. Her chair was padded with richly embroidered pillows; Jevah saw a tapestry she recognized as ancient Bajoran weaving hanging from the bulkhead behind her. She forced her whirling thoughts to slow, and sipped at her tea.

"I am so pleased you could come," Naprem said, as if in some formal situation.

"As am I," Jevah said with heartfelt relief. "I—had thought this was to be a very different sort of evening."

Naprem smiled slightly, wryly. "I am sure. I am pleased that Dukat—encountered you in the corridor. The timing was very fortunate." She looked over the rim of her cup, warning in her eyes. "But let us turn away from such topics," she said quietly. Jevah could see Dukat behind her, working on a large computer console in the office area. She nodded understanding; this subject could only be implied.

"How long have you been on the station?" she asked by way of changing the conversation.

"Almost a year now," Jevah replied. "I was brought up in response to a requisition for computer operators last year."

"And Skurs? How long since he took an interest in you?"

Jevah smiled slightly; that was one way of saying it. "Eight months, perhaps. He came onto my shift as the new supervisor a tenday before... before he called me to his quarters."

Naprem nodded, shifting in her chair. "Some of us occasionally gather and play board and card games; would you be interested in joining us?"

Jevah reminded her, "I am still working as a functional computer operator; I am generally on shift during the day."

"Yes, I recall. I was rather surprised when you turned up at one of the gatherings; the younger officers generally don't bring escorts or simply draw from the available roster."

Jevah shrugged. "I believe Skurs had just been promoted; perhaps he was unfamiliar with the customs."

"Perhaps." She sipped again, and turned to face Jevah directly. "I would regret hearing if anything—untoward—should happen to you."

Jevah shuddered, feeling herself flush. She opened her mouth, closed it, unsure of what to say at first. "I would regret it as well," she said quietly. The fear of Pinha's attentions was only clear after the words left her mouth, and she bowed her head.

Naprem put a soft hand on her arm. "There are- occasionally happenings that we regret, that cannot be prevented."

Jevah looked away, still uneasy with the subject in general and in specifics. "Most of us have lived - with the Occupation- for all our lives. But- it's difficult."

"Of course it is," Naprem soothed, her fingers tightening on Jevah's arm. "We all make the best we can of difficult times when they come to us, and try to find the pleasure in the good times to warm us in the dark."

Jevah nodded, and sipped her drink, desperately trying to distract herself from this line of thinking. Again, Naprem turned the subject away.

"Skurs is rather new to this, is he not?"

"I believe so," Jevah said.

"I thought he might be, but he managed to handle the wardrobe aspects very well. You are entitled to draw clothing from the stores held for-us. I can show you where they are and make sure you have an access pass."

"I would appreciate that," Jevah said; "I certainly don't have the clothing for the social functions I find myself attending."

They toured the well-stocked supply rooms set aside for the comfort women, and Jevah selected some clothing and other items to supplement her meager toiletries and almost non-existent wardrobe. Naprem was solicitous and calm; she invited Jevah repeatedly to take part in some of the social events the officers' women organized amongst themselves, what Jevah thought of as time-filling affairs while waiting for their protectors. Jevah mentioned books; Naprem gave her a carry-bag half-filled with novels, piling her clothing on top of them.

They shared a late dinner, and during the conversation Jevah learned more about Naprem, who had been born the daughter of rich parents and had met Dukat at a party thrown by her family. The family had not suffered much under the Occupation; they were involved in shipping and had been allowed by the Cardassians to continue to operate, with supervision. Naprem asked a few questions about farming and growing up in the country, but ran out of ideas after a few moments; she had no experience with life outside that of her own class.

"We have just returned from a most wonderful trip," she enthused. "We toured the mountains and lakes of the Eastern province, and it was wonderful to show the splendors of the area to someone who has never seen it."

"I never really traveled," Jevah confessed, "only the trip from Musilla to the city, and then to here."

"Perhaps we can organize something for a group of us," Naprem bubbled, "that might be something we can enjoy."

Jevah smiled. She thought this might be a bit naïve. "Would the senior officers and juniors necessarily spend much time together," she asked.

"They spend time in the lounge every evening!" Naprem pointed out.

"The lounge is like-a bar, yes? Where the ladies gather?"

"Yes, exactly."

Jevah shrugged. "I am not so familiar with Cardassian social mores," she admitted. "I know that rank can make a difference in social groupings."

Naprem shrugged. "I don't really know much about how others socialize when not on station."

Jevah didn't think this could really happen, but didn't want to argue with the Prefect's lady. "An outing with officers and their companions sounds like a wonderful idea." Jevah had seen the effects of rank struggles and politics amongst the officers on the station; the Cardassians seemed to delight in the subtle maneuvering for power and influence. Perhaps Naprem was simply the victim of a limited worldview; she had been with the Prefect since their introduction and had seen only the power and authority of a man who makes all the decisions.

They wound the evening down with generally aimless chatting, and Jevah tried to move the visit toward an end, wanting to depart before the night turned late.

"I must work in the morning," she finally said, feeling her energy begin to flag.

Naprem pressed her fingers. "Please, come again. I enjoyed your company; we shall have to spend more time together."

Dukat, perhaps sensing the change of conversation, came into the room, and instructed one of the guards to escort Jevah back to Skurs' quarters as she took her farewell of Naprem. The door closed behind him and she sighed in relief, walking beside the guard down the corridors, following his lead toward the lift. Dukat was charismatic and charming when he chose to be, but she felt a menace below the surface; she thought that every expression covered hidden depths. She wondered how Naprem could not see this, and then it occurred to her that perhaps this was why Dukat kept her; her very simplicity could be a balm to someone who played politics every moment of the day.

Without her awareness, they had arrived at Skurs' quarters; the guard waited while she went inside, then turned away as the door slid closed.

She slid onto a chair, dropping her bag to the floor. The evening had threatened to turn as bad as anything she could imagine; only the chance meeting with Dukat in the corridor had saved her from Pinha's intentions. As much as the Prefect frightened her, Pinha scared her more—she would gladly spend uncomfortable social evenings in Dukat's quarters with Naprem to avoid the attention Pinha would show her. She reminded herself that she had survived what had been thrown at her thus far, and she was determined to continue to do so.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Jevah was escorted to the LSC by an armed soldier the following morning; she wondered who had arranged it. Dukat, probably; he was nothing if not thorough. The shift passed without incident; she mentioned only the barest-bones events to Binna during the meal break. The same soldier came to the LSC at the end of the shift and escorted her back to Skurs' rooms; he was evidently one of Dukat's personal guards, not just one of the common security staffers.

Skurs walked in to the room carrying a duffel later that evening. He unpacked and put his things away without a word, then poured a glass of wine and sat. "I was assigned to an inspection tour of facilities in the mines," he said shortly, "with virtually no notice." He brooded, projecting an aura of deep frustration.

"Pinha's orders?"

"Yes. The previous inspection was a month ago."

"Well, he nearly got what he wanted."

"Nearly?" Skurs looked at her pointedly. Jevah explained how close she had come to spending time with Pinha; she found herself shaking just thinking about how Dukat's intervention had saved her from that disaster.

"It was either incredibly fortuitous timing," Skurs mused, "or the Prefect has some interest in thwarting Pinha's wishes."

"Either way," Jevah murmured. "If being Naprem's friend will keep me away from Pinha, I will never leave her side."

Jevah wondered if Skurs had thought of anything besides his own loss of status had Pinha's manipulations been successful; he finished his wine, and went to the computer console, where he busied himself with work. Jevah finally went to bed while he still worked, trying to force herself to sleep, tossing restlessly long after Skurs had fallen asleep.

She did her work during the day, paid attention, but her focus wasn't on it; her mind kept returning, not only to the time spent with Naprem, but the implications of Pinha's attempted actions. That Cardassians considered the Bajorans something less, something disposable, was obvious by the numbers who had died during the Occupation. Presumably sporting with women of the occupied planet would be considered convenient to those stationed there; slightly or more depraved by those who viewed events from afar, but ignored by everyone after the fact. Yet the Prefect had interfered, for what reason she could not know.

If Cardassians were treated this way, she was sure there would be a rise of nationalism, xenophobia, belligerence; yet they could not understand the actions of the Resistance and the hatred of the Bajoran people. It was a blindness inherent in their supposed superiority; they literally could not understand the actions or feelings of those they considered lesser, could not understand why the subjugated hated them.

A tenday later, Jevah received a message from Dukat's lady, inviting her to spend another evening.

Naprem greeted her warmly at the door of her quarters, glancing past the guards stationed there and waving her inside. They settled into comfortable chairs with glasses of cold fruit drink and Jevah took a few moments to look around. The last time she'd been here, she had been so shaken that she could not take in details. The quarters were significantly larger than Skurs'; the layout showed the presence of two bedrooms, one of which was used as an office. One end of the room was full of computer equipment of unknown purpose; the functional furniture was spread nicely at the other side of the quarters. The furniture was rich without being ostentatious; quality was obviously more important than grandiosity in this room. Tapestries of ancient Bajoran design hung on some of the walls; Jevah recognized the style of one she had seen in a book as some several hundred years old, and wondered how the Prefect had come by it.

Naprem spent a good part of the evening trying to teach Jevah a board game; to Jevah's relief, Dukat was nowhere in sight. He might have prevented her being taken by Pinha, but she still found him frighteningly powerful and disturbing. They chatted comfortably, neither touching any sensitive subjects, until Naprem put the game away and poured glasses of kanar, moving their conversation to the couch. "Something is happening," she confessed after emptying her glass. "There are meetings and whispers and dark looks everywhere. I don't know what, but it's keeping Dukat busy, keeping everyone busy."

Jevah shrugged. "I wouldn't begin to know what to guess," she told Naprem. "My time is spent in the LSC and in Skurs' rooms; I hear less of events than probably anyone on this station."

Naprem smiled gently. "That may change, as Skurs picks up rank or moves into different assignments." She poured herself another glass of kanar. "It does seem as though things are being shaken up; but I can't seem to find out what is happening or why."

"I am sure we will find out eventually," Jevah acknowledged. "Surely we are the ones in the least position to do more than watch change come barreling at us."

"Change indeed," Naprem agreed, "but we are somewhat protected by it, being here."

Jevah thought of the miners, the casual workers, the worn-down technical people in the barracks rooms. "Very protected," she agreed.

Dukat chose that time to return to his quarters; he poured himself a glass of kanar and joined Naprem on the couch, his arm draped comfortably about her shoulders. "Meetings, and more meetings," he commented; "they never seem to end. Sometimes I think we have meetings to plan the meetings for next year's meetings." Jevah smiled; he sounded like any tired bureaucrat she'd ever heard complaining.

"I have managed to avoid such things in my work," she acknowledged after a silence. "Monitoring rarely requires meetings; updates in procedures are usually communicated directly."

"Hah!" Dukat agreed, holding his glass up as if to toast her comment. "There is something to be said for the simplicity of a task to do, a goal to meet, a system to maintain. The station completed is much simpler to deal with than it was as a project, I daresay."

Kanar loosened her tongue. "I can only imagine," she agreed. "Even the few building projects I saw in Jelandra were beyond my experience; I can't begin to consider how complicated this must have been to plan and build."

"You have an agile enough mind, though," Dukat said. "You might be able to bring value to some of the projects being planned for the future." He nodded as if to himself, turned to Naprem and bent her over in a deep embrace, then made his way to his office.

Jevah felt as if she were a balloon, leaking hot air and energy. "Why," she whispered, "am I here, exchanging social comments with the Prefect of Bajor?"

Naprem smiled, pushed her rumpled hair out of her face. "He is just a man, after all, like so many others."

"It is just—" Jevah shrugged. "I never thought to find myself in this station, let alone exchanging casual words with the most powerful person on the planet. It's like the farmer being invited to serve his katterpods to the king. It seems unreal, at times, and other times, all too real."

"At least," Naprem said quietly, "his sense of timing has served you well."

"And for that I am most grateful," Jevah agreed.

Escorted again by one of Dukat's personal guardsmen, Jevah returned to Skurs' rooms, where, unusually enough, he was stretched on the couch, staring out at the stars, a half-empty bottle of kanar on the floor next to his hand. She took a chair nearby and turned her eyes to the stars as well. That sight never failed to draw her attention, never failed to instill a sense of awe and insignificance in her. It made her own life and issues pale into nothingness, and she felt more peaceful for it.

"I wish I understood," she mused, "whether I fit into some specific place in this life, or whether it's all purely random chance."

"Do not your Prophets guide all?" Skurs asked.

"Sometimes the teachings of my childhood are so far removed from my mind that I don't have a clue," she confessed. "I rarely felt like the faith provided direction; it was a ritual that brought comfort to those around me. I know those who feel they are guided, but I never felt directed."

"Religion is another reason my people see yours as something less," Skurs said thoughtfully. "Cardassians gave up religion hundreds of years ago, as a weakness, a demand for something beyond us to change things. We took our lives and our worth into our own hands."

"For me, it is just part of the great unknown of the universe," Jevah told him. "I don't profess to _know_ the answers. The Prophets may be part of it; they may not. They may exist. It is not likely I will find out in this lifetime."

"This lifetime," Skurs said. "Are there others?"

Jevah thought about it. "Have you ever met someone you thought you knew before, or someone with whom you were instantly comfortable?" She turned, stretched her legs. "I met someone while in training whose thoughts were so like mine that we might have been twins, yet he was from another province, another class, a completely different life. We were so much alike that we could complete each other's sentences in conversation."

"You think you were—connected, somehow?" Skurs managed not to sound skeptical.

"I have no idea how to explain it," Jevah admitted. "I just know we fit together, like we were pieces of the same material. And I know that if I ever meet him again, we will fit together again, no matter how our experiences change us."

"Were you lovers?"

"No, never," Jevah said. "It never occurred to us. We just _were_. We just fit. We made no demands, held no expectations of each other. We just felt like we were enhanced by the other; we became something greater than the sum of our parts when we worked together."

"I have never had such an experience," Skurs said quietly. "I cannot even imagine it."

"It was both strange and wonderful," Jevah said. "We all like to think we are unique, but Barun was so like me we might have been twins. It made me feel good that someone understood me so well, but strangely uncomfortable that there was someone else so like me. It made me wonder how many other versions there are of me in the universe."

"We are all the products of our genetic mix," Skurs offered. "Surely among all the species that inhabit the galaxy, there are combinations that repeat, types of people that are similar."

"That makes sense, of course, she admitted, "but don't we as individuals want to feel that we are unique? That we are so completely different from anyone else that it becomes a miracle when we find someone who understands us?"

"Uniqueness is not so much valued among Cardassians," Skurs pointed out. "Our value as individuals is in support of the Empire, in whatever ways our lives serve the state. The other place where we find value is in the preservation of the Empire and our species through our children."

"What happens to the poets among you, the artists, the dancers?"

"They are schooled with others of their kind, and directed toward state-approved interpretations of their art."

"That's really sad," Jevah said morosely. "All that creativity, bottled up and channeled down narrow pathways—"

"We would not risk having it disrupt the people or the orderly progression of our society," Skurs noted. He handed Jevah his glass, and she drank the remaining kanar in it, before refilling it and returning it to him. "There are ways to use their creativity in support of Cardassia, without breaking it down or disrupting from within."

"There is something to be said for the chaos of a storm," she said wistfully. "There is no weather here on the station."

"Only the turbulence of politics, of status, of maneuvering for power," Skurs said. "The eddies come to our door every day."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

There was a feeling of anticipation at the station; something was coming. Some event, not yet communicated downward; the senior staffers walked around looking tense. Shuttles ran from the surface continually, carrying administrators for one meeting after another; faces passed in the corridors were worried, frustrated, or angry.

Skurs was silent on the cause; he refused to discuss anything with her. He spent more time than ever at his console, and Jevah began to wish she had taken Naprem up on her offer of social times more often; spending hours not talking to someone, sharing a room with a silent stranger until time to sleep, was like living back in the barracks, without even the possibility of conversation. They barely spoke over meals; only the slight conversation with Binna and the others in the LSC managed to mitigate Jevah's feelings of isolation.

It was Binna who finally managed to put the pieces together; she overheard enough snippets of conversation amongst the Cardassians to figure it out. "Some sort of inspection team from Cardassia Prime, maybe even from Central Command," she reported to the gathered workers on break. "I don't know if it's good or bad, but a lot of brass are coming from higher up to look things over. They are rushing back and forth between making things perfect on the station and trying to beef up security enough to prevent further bombs or riots or assassination attempts." She glanced around, shrugged. "Maybe they are coming down on the Prefect, increasing the production quotas or something."

Maintenance teams were everywhere, and the casual labor workers were impressed into cleaning and re-cleaning every public part of the station. Supplies were laid in for impressive meals; banners with symbols of Cardassian nationalism were everywhere. Jevah kept a low profile, staying out of Skurs' way while he worked in the evening, paying strict attention to her console during the day, hoping against hope that she would not be involved in some of the social situations that would undoubtedly accompany such a top-heavy visit.

After days of preparation, the whispers finally circulated. "The ship has docked."

"Three escorts, with squads of troops and attack ships."

"It's the Governor Provost of the region, several inspectors, and two members of the ruling Council!"

As most Bajorans had virtually no visibility into the ruling structure of the Cardassians, most of these meant nothing, but it was evident that the people arriving wielded a great deal of power over Bajor and its administrators.

Footsteps rang in the passageways as groups of touring visitors were guided about the station; they peered into every room, every desk, every functional space and most of the non-functional spaces as well. They came through the LSC, but spent mercifully little time there, and the workers were ignored completely or pushed out of the way where necessary. It was better than Jevah might have hoped; she expected that if someone tripped in front of the visiting dignitaries, they would be shot immediately, just for the crime of having drawn attention to themselves. She did not see the behavior of the Cardassians during their moments of attention; the workers had been instructed to stay at their stations and not turn unless specifically called out. They obeyed without question.

A reception was held, a party planned; Jevah stayed in Skurs' quarters when his presence was compelled. He came back quiet and grim, smelling of spirits, but uncommunicative, and he laid awake for a long time that night, staring at the ceiling or out the viewport. Finally, he told her. "The inspection team are high-level First- and Third-Order leaders, plus military and senior advisors for the Central Command. There is a gathering next week that we will attend; I will get you time and a visit to the supply rooms to prepare for it."

Jevah nodded. "I had hoped—that I could stay out of it."

"As had I. But there is no way to avoid this one; escorts for the officers are commanded. Additional women are being brought to the station to fill out the numbers."

Jevah said nothing; she was still appalled at the use of Bajoran women for "comfort" by the Cardassians. Skurs seemed surprised at her silence. "The women chosen are fortunate," he said. "They will be well-treated, even pampered, while on the station."

"I can't convince you differently," she said shortly, turning away. "But their families would not agree." 

Another party, a command performance that Jevah dreaded. She determined to stay quiet, to draw no notice, to be dull. Her dress was formal without being flashy; a dark color and straight lines that neither flaunted nor disguised her.

This one was held in a room larger than she had seen on the station; there were tables with drinks, others with finger foods, and a third with items she did not recognize. Skurs steered her away from that one, and few others approached it. "Drugs and intoxicants," he said, "for those who choose. None are approved for the military; those will be used only by the political and ruling powers." Drinks in hand, they circled the room, looking for the place where the junior officers gathered to stay out of the way. A far corner finally revealed them; the engineers, technical officers, and maintenance staff chatted amongst themselves, milling nervously, while trying not to look as if they were avoiding the rest of the gathering.

The women standing with these officers were silent; most were unfamiliar to Jevah, and she suspected they were those newly-arrived. They looked nervous, watchful, and they tended to cluster together defensively whenever attention turned away from them. Jevah watched the crowd that usually circled around the Prefect shifting aimlessly; the Prefect this time was in the middle of a group of older Cardassians, all talking quietly, a few on the outside of the group discouraging others from approaching. Jevah did not see Naprem right away; she finally caught sight of her with another group of women that she recognized from previous gatherings. _So the political maneuverings were still going on_ , she guessed. _Whatever prompted this visit is still being worked out._

A buffet was set out; many of the room's occupants approached the tables, filled plates, and moved into another room where tables were arranged, but when the line had finished, there were still small groups of conversations going on in the room. The local Cardassians were on their best behavior; they displayed none of the levity, the rough jokes or loud conversations she had seen before. Skurs' group, the technical types, were still heatedly discussing some engineering theory that had been suggested, and did not seem to notice that the party had gone on without them. _Or perhaps,_ Jevah thought, _they did see it, and didn't care._ _Perhaps they are aware of the hierarchical posturing, without participating in them—their passion is not about advancement, but about their technology and systems._ Only when a senior said something to them did the group break up and head for the tables, still arguing vehemently.

The visiting Cardassians, sitting in a group near the front of the room, talked quietly amongst themselves, ignored the women who accompanied them, as if they were slightly offended at having Bajorans at their table. She mentioned this to Skurs; he agreed. "They do not come here often; they are not familiar with the Bajorans at all, except as a subjugated people. They would not consider them worthy of attention; I am surprised some of these did not bring their own wives or mistresses." She contrasted this with the behavior of the Cardassians at her table, who treated their partners at least with neglectful courtesy; they were less interested in the women or the party than in the possibility of discussion with their peers from other departments.

As the meal moved to a close and staffers cleared the tables, one of the oldest Cardassians at the head table stood and signaled for silence. "Governor-General Takorn," Skurs whispered, "the Regional governor for this entire sector. The Prefect reports to Central Command via the Governor-General."

Takorn's speech reviewed a proposed five-year plan to finish the mining of the planetary resources, prepare Bajor for the arrival of Cardassian colonists, and build the settlements the new arrivals would need. Jevah exchanged glances with some of the other women at the table at various points; this was indeed news. This would change everything about the Occupation; the Bajorans would see this as the final threat, the end of the effort to not only take away their planet, but drive them into extinction or permanent existence as a slave class.

Prefect Dukat spoke next, outlining some of the plans mentioned in Takorn's remarks, including the need for more Cardassians to be stationed on the planet to control and organize the activities that would prepare for colonization. He was confident and smooth, and Jevah recognized that his charisma and intelligence were powerful inducements for those who supported him in power. His ambition, radiating strongly, was matched in strength by those at the head table, those who struggled for power and influence. Dukat was a match for any of them, she thought, and she suspected he would never stop clawing his way to the top.

While she brooded, conversation sprang out at their table about the expansion of systems required by the outlined plans. Most of the activities were taking place on the planet, so only general facilities were needed; things long understood and easily assembled. But a mine had been mentioned for one moon in the system, and that would take some design and installation work to create the mine itself, the living structures for the miners and administrators, the life support and maintenance systems. It would be more complicated than Terok Nor, even; the site had the potential to be larger than the station. Workers were cheap; they reasoned; technology to eliminate the need for most workers was more expensive. They would build to keep workers alive, but not in comfort.

Jevah sipped her wine, looking away from the front of the room, away from the gathered powerful at the head table. They played with people's lives as if they were gambling stones, items of little value to be squabbled over, distributed, shared, or taken, with no regard for anything but winning. Chairs scraped on floors; everyone was standing to applaud the speakers and the plans they had outlined. Jevah stood as well, impelled by a tight grip on her arm; she was grateful that their table was near the back. She looked around curiously, and saw that few of the women in the room were applauding; those who were moved slowly, as if generating just enough motion to blend into the crowd. How could they expect the Bajorans to cheer this news? And what, she wondered, would happen when the news of this plan inevitably made its way to the people who lived in the cities, the farmers, the craftsmen, the Resistance?

The party broke up slowly after that; the visiting inspection team drifting away toward what Jevah suspected was a private gathering, the other groups slowly dissipating down the hallways to lounges, bars, and private quarters. The technical types ended up in a small conference room halfway around the station; they had brought bottles and diagrams with them, and the technical discussion and drinking went on into the night. The Bajoran women ended up sitting at one end of the table, talking quietly amongst themselves; the Cardassians didn't seem to notice. Jevah was the only one who even tried to listen to the conversation; she saw the occasional curious glance from engineers and technicians, as they tried to identify her, to sort her. _Neither fish nor fowl,_ she thought, and was just as pleased. _I am not sure I want to fit into anyone's categories here._

Finally, in the early hours of the morning, the gathering broke up, and the Cardassians turned their attention back to the spirits and their companions. The group broke up into couples and smaller groups, wandering off to their own private pursuits. She and Skurs and another couple walked aimlessly down the corridor, the Cardassians continuing a discussion so esoteric in content that Jevah could make nothing of it. They ended up in the other officer's rooms, with more kanar and darkness finally taking over the conversation.

The room was large, more like Skurs' quarters, and the other officer, introduced as Kehtel, was a designer and supervisor of part of the ore-processing system that filled the lower part of the station. He and Skurs were discussing some esoteric point of system design, arguing drunkenly over things Jevah could not begin to understand, and she and the other woman, Kadia, stood near the viewport and looked out at the stars. "How long will they go on like this?" Kadia asked nervously.

Jevah shrugged. "I don't know; usually we leave the gatherings when we can. Skurs is not so comfortable with social situations; I have never seen him interact with such a small group or individual before.

Kadia seemed about to cry. "How long have you been here?" she asked.

"Almost a year," Jevah said. "But I am a computer operator, I did not come here—to serve the officers so directly."

"I have been here for three days," Kadia confessed. "I was taken from my family and brought here with others; this is the first time I have been out of my rooms since I came here. I don't know where anything is here— and I don't know—what to expect."

"You do know what to expect," Jevah told her quietly. "You are here because these Cardassians want pretty women on their arms for social events, and in their beds afterwards."

Kadia's lip trembled. "Yes," she admitted, "I do know."

Jevah held her hand tightly for a moment. "There is no choice, here; there is no running away. Just make the best you can out of the situation. You are fed, clothed, and sheltered, and are far more comfortable than most Bajorans on the planet."

Kadia nodded. "But—I had a lover; we were—"

Jevah hushed her. "If you want to survive here, you have to put those thoughts aside. You have to concentrate on what is here, in front of you. Think about the past while you are alone, but when you are around others, you have to keep your eyes open and watch out for yourself. Nobody is going to take better care of you than _you_."

Kadia nodded again and took a deep breath; Jevah hoped her words had gotten through. This poor woman-child, really-was on her own in an unfamiliar world, and would have very little time to adjust, but adjust she must.

A burst of laughter from behind them brought their attention back to the room; Kadia waited until her face was under control before she turned.

"Are we out of kanar!?" Kehtel demanded.

Skurs, from the opposite end of the couch, produced a bottle from the floor beside him. "We are not, not on my watch," he announced. "We just need someone to share it with."

"That's our cue," Jevah said quietly. She picked up an empty glass from a side counter and went to Skurs, where he shifted to give her access to his lap. Kehtel stretched out his legs and Kadia stood uncertainly until he pulled her down to sit with him. Skurs poured them all more kanar before taking a long drink from the bottle. With his empty hand he pulled Jevah close and nuzzled her neck, while Kehtel finished his drink, stood, and led a reluctant Kadia into the bedroom. The door closed behind them, but Skurs did not seem to notice.

"Can we go to your rooms?" Jevah whispered against his skin, not wanting to spend a night or even an hour on a couch in someone else's rooms. He didn't seem to hear, but dropped the corked bottle onto the couch to use both hands to stroke her back and hips.

"Skurs, please," Jevah's voice broke. "I don't want to feel like—"

"Like what?" he asked. His hands slowed, and he pulled his head back to peer at her in the darkness.

"Like—those women—taken and handled in public, humiliated, treated like toys—"

"We are not in public," he said, not moving.

"But we are not private, and this is not your room, and they could come out at any time. I don't feel—comfortable here. I feel—used."

Skurs did not move for several moments, then he moved her aside and stood up, pulling her up by the arm. They left, walked down the darkened corridors for what seemed like a long time until they returned to Skurs' room. Still silent, Skurs lowered the lights until the room was lit only by the reflected starlight, then pulled Jevah back onto his lap as he settled onto a corner of the couch. She put her arms around his shoulders and leaned against him, grateful that he had listened to her. His breath on her neck was warm and slow, and they sat unmoving for a long time.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Skurs' console chimed the next morning; a sound Jevah had never heard before. It galvanized the Cardassian; he leapt from the bed and raced to the console to read a message, then came back to the bed and stretched. "I have been assigned to the mining colony planning team," he told her. "I will spend half-time on that project, more as it grows."

Jevah turned over. All thoughts of the five-year plan had been forgotten while the party had devolved into smaller and smaller groups last night; she'd finally had enough kanar that she slept without hesitation when the opportunity presented itself. Now she turned over what she remembered in her head. "How long do they think the project will take?" she asked.

"Preliminary estimates are two years, if there are no problems. But we are starting at the very beginning. We have standard plans for such facilities, but they will have to be adapted to the environment, the size, and the resources; it will be weeks before we even have a rough schedule." Skurs put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. "Just this piece of the project will have significant personnel demands," he said. "It is going to make the station crowded as they bring people up."

"Who will they need?"

"Many people with professional training: engineers, mining site and construction specialists, software and hardware designers, facilities designers. Once the designs are done, the people who will do the actual work will come and direct most of the activity from here; there will be frequent visits to the moon for review and inspection. The first self-replicating equipment will go to the moon to set up the most basic living quarters, then the engineers and builders who run the equipment systems will go there to direct the initial hollowing out of the facility. It will probably be underground; those systems are easier to develop and more secure. Various teams will work through the phases from drilling out the tunnels to setting up the life support and production facilities; last will come the final setup for occupancy and work. The system will be tested on a small-scale basis for several months before full-scale production begins." He paused, took a breath. "More Cardassians will also arrive in the near future, to both supervise the project and liaise with Central Command."

"And that is just the smallest part of the overall plan. The other aspects, preparing Bajor for—" He broke off his words, and turned away.

"For settlement by Cardassians," Jevah said quietly. In spite of the room's warmth, she was suddenly chilled.

"Yes."

"That is probably a much bigger project, since the planet is so much larger than just a moon, and there are so many Bajorans to be handled."

"They have allotted a full five years for implementation."

"What will become of Bajorans?"

"I have not seen the detailed plans, Jevah."

"What has happened in other Cardassian-occupied planets?"

"This is not a discussion we should have now."

She bit her lip and turned away as Skurs walked into the 'fresher. Bajor would be turned into a Cardassian settlement; Bajorans would fade as a people, become the servant class, the worker class, the lowest caste of the culture. The filth-carriers, the untouchables. They were already impressed as workers in the mines, the station, the fields, but there were still some Bajorans who worked their farms, ran their businesses, provided their services. As a Cardassian settlement, she could not see that continuing. Few Bajorans would be in a position of authority or power; those would be working for Cardassians against the best interests of the Bajoran people and would not be trusted. Even families like Naprem's, who held shipping interests throughout the major continent, would slowly be ousted, their holdings given to Cardassians to control. Gradually Bajorans would be fortunate to hold positions there at all; at some point in time they would become indentured workers, slaves, possessions. Resources.

Jevah took her turn in the 'fresher after Skurs had finished, and came out wearing her dull blue work uniform. "Do we work today?" she asked while eating fruit and bread.

"Yes," Skurs replied absently. "Starting tomorrow I will spend mornings in the LSC and afternoons working the mining colony project. If there is no security staff available to bring you here, return to the worker barracks until I send someone for you."

"Very well," she replied tonelessly, and followed him passively to the LSC. During the morning, she saw him walking around with another man, appearing to show him the room, the functions; this was apparently the Cardassian who would take Skurs' place. At the mid-day break, she mentioned the project to Binna, who had already heard about the five-year plan. There really were no secrets in such a closed environment as the station; while the details were not commonly known, the overall goals listed in Trakorn's speech the night before were already circulating.

Jevah took a breath while telling Binna what she knew. This went beyond the bounds of the Occupation, perhaps all the way to genocide. Did she finally have reason to contact the Resistance, to work in their efforts to overthrow the Cardassians? She was not brave, she acknowledged that. She clearly saw the situation, saw the advantages the Cardassians held, saw the small groups of Resistance fighters making things a little uncomfortable for those holding power, but no more than the occasional bug bite. Could a bite turn fatal?

Binna echoed her thoughts. "I know there are Resistance members on the station; I wonder if there is any information we could get that would help them."

Jevah shivered. "You would have to be very careful," she said.

"But if I could? Would you help?" Binna was serious now, her expression wary.

"I—yes, I would help. Just—Binna, I don't want to hear the details, the plans. I don't think I could handle that."

"I will see what I can do."

They returned to their consoles, Jevah filled with uneasiness. She had tried to just live her life during the Occupation, taking the world as it was, and dealing with it the best she could. She had come to a more or less comfortable accommodation with Skurs as well, and now she considered stepping out of that comfort zone into a dangerous world in which a misstep could imprison her, torture and kill her.

After the shift ended, guards again walked the workers back to the barracks area, but when she slid her pass through the reader, she was directed to stand aside while the others filed past. "This one goes back up," the guard said to his partners. He did not speak to her, but gestured for a different soldier to escort her back to the officer's level, to Skurs' rooms.

As she expected, the room was empty; Skurs had thought the project would take up much of his time, including evening meetings. She showered, nibbled at dinner, and settled down to read, but could not focus her mind on it. How would she access the information that might be helpful to the Resistance? What would they do with it? She turned away from the thoughts of how many casualties might result; she could not deal with the nightmares that would result. How would slowing or stopping the mining colony help the Resistance? How would it change the direction of Cardassian rule? There was too much she didn't know, and she suspected that as a Cardassian's bedmate, she would never find out.

Skurs came in when Jevah was considering going to bed; he walked as if exhausted. "The first meetings were held today," he said as she slumped onto the couch. "There is much to be done. They want a shorter schedule; I don't know if we can accomplish it in the timeframe they demand." Jevah brought him a glass of kanar, and he gulped it down. "They brought us food, anyway," he said, "but it's going to be a long and hard project." He looked up at her, indicated that she was to sit. "We will need additional staff," he said, "administrative and records personnel." He finished his kanar, gestured for more, which Jevah poured. "Would you like to work on the project?"

"Why not just assign me?" she returned.

"I thought to give you some choice in the matter," Skurs said, and drank more kanar. "You would be working as support for the entire team, managing documentation and making sure the required forms are generated and filed." He paused, drank again. "Most of the team are senior-level military and planning managers; they are not part of the Occupation and have not necessarily fallen into the habits of those stationed here."

"In other words, they would be likely to leave me alone."

"In matters other than your work, yes. In point, it would probably offer you some greater protection than I have been able to provide. It is not likely that anyone on the station would interfere with a member of the planning staff's team." He shrugged, turned toward the viewport. "I thought it would be interesting work for you. And you are certainly intelligent enough to handle it."

Jevah smiled weakly. This fell into line with her thoughts about the Resistance; yet Skurs offered this as a compliment, and a way to secure her safety. "Yes, I think I would like it," she said, acknowledging that she would have to balance her feelings about it later. This was not likely an offer that would happen again, and she could not afford to pass it by.

"It might not be soon," Skurs warned. "This is the beginning stage of planning, and we are still a very small staff."

Jevah nodded. "Is—Gul Pinha to be any part of this?"

"He is purely military," Skurs told her. "His involvement will be in the Bajoran parts of the activity. He might even be transferred to the planetary facilities. He has not mentioned you since the time he had me sent away—and Dukat intercepted you."

"I still don't understand that," Jevah confessed. "The Prefect refused you—but he kept Pinha from me."

"Nor do I. Dukat always has his reasons, though; we may never understand them. It has not helped him with Pinha, but it has ensured my loyalty."

"It meant that much to you?" she asked.

"He is the Prefect; he had my loyalty, but he has done something for me personally, and that goes beyond professional loyalty."

"I don't understand him, but I have to admit that I am grateful that he intervened."

"As am I." Skurs gathered her close and held her for several moments, as if for comfort or companionship, before he shifted his position. "There will be much work in this project," he said, "it will take more hours than our working shifts allow."

Jevah leaned into him, her forehead resting against his neck. "I know," she replied softly. "Such things do."

"There will not be much time for this." He stroked her hair, twining it in his fingers.

Jevah felt surprised; he sounded romantic and emotional! Was there something more here than just the companionship and regular sex? Was this quiet, confident Cardassian showing some sort of feelings for her? "I am sure," she whispered, "that you will find the time." She felt slightly ill; this felt like deception and betrayal. She had no love for Cardassians in general, but this man had treated her well, had been decent and kind, and she felt guilty and tainted when she considered that she would use his kindness against him, would use her body to hide her perfidy. They sat unmoving for some time before Skurs lowered the lights and stood, leading her to the wide bed in the next room.


	11. Chapter 11

_Warning: non-consensual activities._

For many weeks, Skurs continued to spend mornings in the LSC and afternoons working on the mining project. Jevah's work continued as well; the afternoon shift supervisor, Milek, left them alone for the most part. Binna had nothing to report back on a Resistance contact; she had put out messages but had not been contacted. "Perhaps they are checking me out," she said. "Or checking you."

"Besides," Jevah acknowledged, "I am not even part of the project yet, so I have no information to provide."

The station reverted back to its usual operations; some personnel were shifted into different quarters in anticipation of new arrivals. Skurs, as one of the project team, was one who moved. This was a different room, located deeper into officer territory, farther away from the back stairwells, and closer to the lifts that led to the main function areas. Skurs still escorted Jevah to the LSC in the mornings, but his meetings began to interfere with his work there, and after several more weeks he moved to the mining project full-time. For a while he made time in the mornings to walk her to the LSC; Milek seemed unconcerned that she was occasionally early because of Skurs' schedule. After a time, he requisitioned a guard for regular escort duty; his time was becoming filled with work and planning meetings. The same guard was assigned every day; he was low-level enough to be unaffected by Jevah's position as Skurs' mistress, and new enough that he was not inordinately arrogant; after a while he even began to exchange greetings and social pleasantries with her.

 _Another nice Cardassian,_ Jevah thought. _The world is indeed changing._

Binna looked especially stern today, Jevah thought; she didn't speak, concentrated on her console. Milek had proved relatively calm about conversation and consultation; they were usually able to hold quiet discussions when there were no alarms to contend with. At the mid-shift break, Jevah accompanied her to the nearby 'fresher. "Contact," Binna said shortly. "Later." They managed to chat about inconsequential things, while Jevah burned with curiosity.

She had still not managed to balance her guilt about offering to help the Resistance with actions that might harm others, versus what she perceived as her potential betrayal of Skurs, who had given her protection on the station for the use of her body. Was there any "right" here? Yes, the Cardassians were wrong in what they were doing to Bajor. But was more death and destruction the answer? Or was it the only answer? Passive resistance had meant only death; the Cardassians had no qualms about destroying those they thought of as lesser. She explored that more fully during the afternoon. What other options were there? Fight, flight, or freeze. Flight was not an option; there was nowhere to go. Oh, she had heard that some had gone "to the hills," to live in caves, to find sheltered valleys in which to grow food. Fighting had changed little except for the repercussions visited upon Bajorans. The Cardassians merely dug in deeper, responded with a harder hand. Freezing also accomplished nothing; people were swept out of the way or ended if they did not cooperate.

The only other option was to give up, to end as a species, to let the Cardassians win. There was something unyielding at the core of the Bajoran psyche that refused to let that be the final answer. They resisted; they stood against the wind, bowed but not broken. Some were broken, true, some were swept aside, but always the core remained intact, changing but never yielding. That was Bajoran, Jevah realized. But was it her? Did she have what it took to be one of the unyielding? Or was she one of the ones who would be swept away, tossed out with the garbage?

There was another trap in her thoughts, she suddenly realized. Was her "relationship" with Skurs purely a mercenary one? He used her sexually and provided protection against similar predation by other Cardassians. Did she owe him her loyalty? Or was that merely a construct of her own thinking, that encouraged her to think of it as a relationship between two mutually-attracted people? Was there any loyalty required in a simple mercantile arrangement?

Binna stood beside her, startling her out of her reverie. Shift-change had come and she hadn't even noticed. "See you tomorrow," she said quietly as Binna headed toward the door. Jevah stood at a bulkhead near the door, so as to not impede the path of the transiting workers. She glanced into the hallway in between passers, but saw no sign of the usual soldier who escorted her. The guard at the end of the workers' escort detail saw her, looked around, and then gestured her into the line. "Go with the rest," he demanded, and after a last look around, Jevah fell into line. They were taken to the workers' barracks area on the level and left behind the mesh gate that separated the area from the passageways. Jevah looked around uncertainly; she had not been here for some time, and it had been so long that Binna and her shift-mates were probably the only people she knew. Binna was not in sight, though, so she headed toward the dining area and picked up a tray, was served a bowl of thin soup, and headed to a table.

"Casti Jevah?" a quiet voice asked from behind her.

"Yes," she said as softly.

"Go to the table on the left where two women are just finishing." As she approached the table, the two women stood, gathered their empty bowls, and moved away; she sat down and quietly took a spoonful of the thin soup. No-one approached while tables around her filled gradually; when she was nearly finished a small, wizened man walked up with a bowl and sat down across from her. He sipped his soup, and Jevah was about to stand and walk away when he lifted a finger. "Stay," he said. She settled back onto the bench, and looked past his shoulder, watching the random movement of people in dull-colored clothes, noticing finally three people who moved about the room, never settling, but circling the corner where she sat, holding bowls as if looking for a place to sit.

"What have you got?" the little man asked quietly.

"Nothing yet," Jevah said. "I am likely to be assigned to the mining colony project." Her insides roiled; this was potentially dangerous activity.

"We will contact you again once you have been assigned. Say nothing." He slurped his soup. "Go now."

Jevah stood, moved away without looking back; taking her bowl and spoon to the wash area. She gravitated slowly back to the gate; she suspected that eventually she would be sent for. Lights were being lowered when a guard showed up at the gate and called her name; she stepped to the fence and handed him her ident card. He opened the gate and she stood aside while he locked it; then he took her arm and marched her along the passageway, in a direction she'd never gone before. She followed, going over the dinner conversation with the little man in her mind, not watching the route or the path they took, until she was halted in front of a set of doors. The guard pressed the signal, and moved her inside when the door slid open.

She looked around, coming out of her thoughts; these were not Skurs' rooms. These were rooms of someone of high rank; someone with rich, ostentatious tastes. The guard shoved her toward the 'fresher and opened the door. Stunned, Jevah went inside, habit carrying her through her normal routine of a shower, and looked around for her work clothing. It was gone; she picked up the fabric that lay on the counter with trembling hands. It was a simple, shift-like gown that left her shoulders bare; the skirt had long slits up the sides. She looked around; there was no other choice available in the room, and she could not secure the door. She swallowed and pulled the gown over her head. Pinha? He had disappeared from her view months before; she had dismissed him as a threat after he'd made no further demands.

"Well," a gravelly voice observed, "here you are at last." She turned toward the open door, to see, as she'd feared, Gul Pinha standing behind her. His smile was thin, but triumphant. "I get what I want, girl," he said. "And I never forget." Jevah glanced around in panic; the guard still stood inside the door, facing her, watching her. There was no way out.

Pinha took her arm and led her to a sofa, then carried over a tall, swirling bottle and two glasses. "You will not have had this before," he said as he handed her a glass, and then poured a green liquid into it. He filled his, watching her with malicious eyes. "Drink," he told her. Jevah's hands were shaking, but she obediently put the glass to her lips. The liquid was strong and acrid; it smelled like solvents and grain, and she barely let it touch her lip before trying to set it aside. Pinha caught her hand, gripped it tightly, and moved the glass back up to her face. "Drink it," he said again, this time making it an order. She sipped, gagged, and felt a wave of heat move through her, starting from her throat. He watched her expectantly, sipping his drink with evident enjoyment, and grabbed her hand again, forcing another several drops into her mouth. "Finish it," he growled. Jevah choked it down, observing as if from a distance the growing heat and relaxation the drink spread throughout her body, and when she had finished it was all she could do to put the glass down without dropping it.

She was sprawled against the cushions, and when Pinha leaned over her, watching her carefully, she tried to move away and nearly fell over. Pinha ran a heavy hand along her collarbone and up her face into her hair, then tugged on it, pulling her head to the side. He smiled in satisfaction, put down his drink and stood, stripping off his uniform until he wore only trousers. He pulled Jevah to her feet and walked her to the bedroom, yanking on her arm when she tried to hang back. When she tried to twist her arm from his grasp, he slapped her, and lifted her easily onto the high bed. She edged away on her elbows, staggering, and he smiled grimly, then called the guard. The man came into the room, and Pinha pointed at the edge of the bed behind Jevah. "Hold her." The guard pushed Jevah down on the bed and pulled her hands above her head, holding her wrists with one hand while his other pressed on her shoulder. Pinha leaned over her, not touching, just watching the look on her face as she struggled to free herself, before he began exploring her body with his hands, fondling her breasts, her hips, the inside of her thighs, occasionally pinching her sharply. His eyes never left her face; he watched her fear with obvious enjoyment.

After he seemed to tire of this, he ripped the tiny pieces of fabric that held the gown on her shoulders and pulled it down to her waist. He handled her breasts again, pinching and squeezing. Abruptly he lowered himself on top of her and bit her left breast, viciously pinching the right at the same time. She writhed in pain under him, tried to push him away, but hands above her head gave her no leverage, and her legs were pinned under his. He stood again, removed his trousers, and shoved the skirt of her gown aside. He spread her legs and pushed himself inside her, his eyes burning into hers, smiling thinly. He watched her reactions closely as he slammed into her again and again, and when she tried to turn her head and close her eyes, Pinha grabbed her chin with a hard hand and turned her back to face him, staring triumphantly at her until he finished.

"Now, girl," he growled, "I have had you. I will have what I want, here. You are not one to deny me."

He pulled her to her feet, pulled the fabric of the gown from around her waist to her shoulders, and nodded to the guard. "Take her back to her place," he told the man, who then escorted a barefoot, dazed Jevah down the hallway. She staggered, clutching the thin fabric against her chest, held up only by the guard's firm grip on her arm; her vision was blurry with tears. After what seemed like another long walk, she heard a door open and looked up. She stumbled into Skurs' room, the door sliding shut behind her. From his console, Skurs looked up, then stood and walked to her at the door. "What has happened?" he asked, taking her arm, and Jevah shuddered.

"I thought—I thought Gul Pinha had forgotten," she whispered. "I was wrong."

Skurs sighed, then took her arm. "Come," he said, "a hot shower will help." He led Jevah into the 'fresher, turned the water on, pulled the gown out of her tight fingers, then helped her into the enclosure. She stood under the water, unmoving, and Skurs watched for several minutes until he seemed to realize the extent of her shock. He undressed, stepped into the shower and washed her, muttering over the bruises darkening on her body. He moved her into the air jets to dry, then wrapped a sheet around her and walked her back to a chair. "Sit," he said, and picked up the offending gown, tossing it into the replicator's waste cycler. He ordered a hot drink, and sat beside her to coax her to drink it, encouraging her as she managed to down sips of the warming liquid. Gradually, her head cleared, and she huddled into a tight ball as pain and humiliation threatened to overwhelm her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?" Skurs asked curiously.

"For being wrong. For being there, for not being able to escape."

He seemed to consider it for a moment. "Could you have escaped?"

"There was a guard…"

"Then say no more of blame. This was not to be avoided."

He leaned as if to pull her into his arms and Jevah stiffened. He hesitated, and Jevah shuddered. He edged closer, wrapped his arms around her, and Jevah felt herself relax slightly. This was safe, in a dangerous world.

Skurs assigned the same guard to her escort for the next several days; she found out later that the guard had been "mistakenly" reassigned to another duty on the day she was taken. Binna seemed to know immediately what had happened; she stayed close to Jevah for several days, watching her, protecting her. After a day of stunned silence, Jevah was able to talk to her friend. Binna reluctantly told her that the word had traveled quickly; that her seizure had been a small part of a power struggle between the military and the administrative staff on the station. "We are caught here," Binna said, "between those who delight in the maneuvering and care little of the consequences to anyone other than themselves."

Jevah nodded. "They see us as disposable. Unless one of us specifically has a value, we are easily replaced. We are not individuals to most of them."

Binna leaned forward, pulling her into a hug. Under cover of the embrace, she whispered "The Resistance has contacted me again."

Jevah huddled into her. "They talked to me on the day—before-when I was in the worker area. Nothing more until I am on the project." Her shoulders shook. "I was hesitant before."

Binna squeezed her. "Don't let those bastards change who you are," she told her.

"Oh, my friend, everything that happens to us changes who we are. But the changes are usually small ones, gradual, over time. This was not." She took a deep breath. "But I will try to not let it overwhelm me."

"You are stronger than you think."

Jevah tried to beg off from the next social gathering, but Skurs was adamant. "I cannot be seen to avoid this," he said, "this is a gathering that the Prefect has arranged. Were it any other senior officer, I could arrange something, but when the Prefect beckons, we must attend."

"Couldn't you go without me?"

"The moment I show up there without you, you will be regarded as available."

He took her to the stores, where she picked a dress that covered her completely, with long sleeves, long loose skirt, and a flowing scarf that draped around her neck and over her shoulders. It would be warm, Jevah knew, but she would not feel so exposed in this design.

She held onto her equilibrium with the strongest effort; she knew she was barely controlling herself. After circulating about the room exchanging greetings, Skurs took her to where the engineers congregated, and they drew into the center of the group, edging almost into the corner. The women with these Cardassians surrounded her, keeping themselves between her and the rest of the room, patting and comforting her when she began occasionally to shake. One of the girls held out a small pill. "Take this," she whispered. "It is for pain, but it will allow you not to feel anything."

Jevah looked at her. "Really? It will help?"

The woman nodded. "I used to take them all the time, until I adjusted to being here. Your mind is clear; you just don't feel any emotion. Sometimes being numb is better." Jevah swallowed the pill with a gulp of autumn wine, then allowed the other woman to exchange her glass for one filled with water. "No more drinks," she said, "it's not a good idea with this." She turned away from the room. "My name is Nuala," she whispered, "and I can get more of those if you need them."

Jevah nodded agreement. She began to feel a calming lassitude come over her; she could still converse, pay attention to the technical argument of the engineers, but she felt insulated from her feelings, as if there were a thick wall around her holding them away. When they settled to dinner and Jevah found that Gul Pinha was seated nearby, she was able to eat her dinner, engage in conversation, and ignore his satisfied glances. Skurs kept a close eye on her, but seemed to relax after a while, jumping into the talk with an enthusiasm she'd rarely seen from him.

The move after dinner into the lounge area left her feeling tense; Pinha had fallen into step behind her and she was desperately aware of his closeness. He left after they gathered in a conversational grouping with other engineers, and Jevah felt comfortable enough to not be worried when several of the Cardassians, including Skurs, returned to the bar to refresh their drinks. A touch on her elbow turned her around. Gul Pinha stood close, looming over her. "Are you enjoying the evening?" he rasped, smiling maliciously.

Jevah faced him, her heart pounding in her chest in spite of the little pill. "Very much, thank you," she said coolly, and turned away.

He tightened his fingers on her elbow, and turned her back around. "I had thought you seemed a bit upset earlier. That something was bothering you."

"Not at all," Jevah murmured. "This is a very pleasant way to spend an evening."

"I can think of other ways to spend my time," he growled, "ways that might be more _enjoyable_ than this."

"Gul Pinha," a voice chirped from behind him, "I so hate to interrupt, but the Prefect's lady would like to confer with Casti Jevah." A tall young woman stood next to him, and Pinha turned to glare at her, but she was unaffected as she took Jevah's hand and drew her out of the crowded area. "Tora Naprem wants to consult you about a new dress she is having made."

Jevah looked up at the woman, catching a twisted smile on her face. "I would be delighted to help Tora Naprem with a design," Jevah assured her, "I have had some ideas since we last spoke."

They made their way to the part of the room where Naprem stood with a group of people; when she caught sight of Jevah she moved out of the group toward her and the tall woman. Naprem hugged her, kissed her cheek, and squeezed her hand in sympathy. "Are you well?" she asked in a low voice.

"Well enough," Jevah said.

"I would like to see you tomorrow night, if you have no other plans."

Jevah laughed in genuine amusement. "No, I have no plans; my evenings are—generally—quiet ones."

Naprem patted her on the shoulder. "I really do want some help, but it was also a good time to get you out of that conversation."

"I appreciate it," Jevah sincerely. "I would be glad to see you tomorrow and help in whatever way I can."

Naprem glanced behind Jevah, toward the part of the room she'd been in. "It seems to be clear to return, if you like. The Gul has moved on to another part of the room, and Skurs is coming in this direction."

"I appreciate the diversion, Naprem, more than you can know." Naprem smiled, hugged her gently, and greeted Skurs, who had just come up behind them. "Tomorrow then," she said, and turned back to the group she'd left, the tall woman accompanying her.

Jevah's hand trembled when Skurs took it; he handed her another glass, a wine flute filled with a pale liquid. "Fruit juice," he whispered, and she sipped at it as they made their way around the room. "We can leave soon; the seniors are already departing."

They waited a few more minutes and left the gathering; Jevah felt the spurious calm of the little pill fading as they approached Skurs' rooms. Once inside, she collapsed on the couch, shaking, feeling nauseated, and again had to rush to the 'fresher to give up her dinner. Showered and cleaned, wearing casual clothing, she turned toward the viewport. "What happened?" Skurs asked.

"Pinha came to make suggestions," Jevah told him. "If Tora Naprem had not asked for me, I can't say what would have happened."

"I could see you and Pinha," he admitted, "but I couldn't avoid the conversation I was in. You seemed calmer than I would have expected."

"I had help." Jevah told him about the little pill, described it to him. Skurs shook his head.

"Once in a great while, those are beneficial," he warned, "but do not take one again. They can be dangerous to your people; they are highly addictive to most species."


	12. Chapter 12

After several weeks, during which Jevah reached an uneasy peace with her encounter with Gul Pinha, she was assigned to the mining colony project. Skurs walked with her to her new work location; a large conference room on an upper level had been re-purposed for the project. Several workstations were arranged at one end of the room, a cabinet held stacks of data rods in the corner. The other end of the room held a conference table with its own console; Jevah was assigned a station nearest the data storage cabinet.

"The first need is to organize the data rods," Skurs told her. "The project is organized by phase, but the data rods are not organized at all. We also want a master list of documentation requirements and data rods, and reference locations, with status of the documentation and approval."

Jevah nodded; this did not seem like much of a task, but as she explored the documentation, she began to get a grasp of the size and complexity of the project. Planning the schedule alone would take weeks; the standard plan had to be revised and dates changed to accommodate the additional requirements made for the colony. Research was required to define the changes in some detail, since resources and systems would be adjusted and must all be planned ahead.

She found the work more fulfilling than her monitoring in the LSC; this job gave her a sense of accomplishment, of getting things done, rather than just watching day-to-day activity. At the end of it, there would be a goal accomplished, a colony established.

The other people working in the project room were unfamiliar, aside from Skurs; he introduced her to the project manager, Dremek, the first day. Jevah was surprised by his intensity; the Cardassian grilled her on her experience and training, and seemed satisfied at her answers; after that he was civil. He was always in a hurry, his focus was sharp, and Jevah had to train herself not to flinch away when he turned that sharp look on her.

The other Cardassians on the team accepted her with some reservation; the senior Engineer, a tall, thin man whose age she could not guess, seemed to be haughty with everyone, more so to her. Skurs treated her, as she expected, like any other worker, although she believed that everyone knew she shared his rooms.

Over time she was given more responsibility, although much of it was trivial: sending requests for updates, material or equipment specs, filing orders and tracking schedules, fetching drink orders and meals. The members of the project team did not treat her as anything more or less than an assistant; when she made a mistake, they were biting; when she did something as expected, she was ignored. For Jevah, it was a novelty; this was the first time she had interacted with Cardassians aside from Skurs who treated her as anything more than a lower form of life.

She saw more senior officers and regional governors in this position; monthly status meetings were held with presentations to keep those officials informed. In those meetings, Jevah stayed at her work console, taking notes on particular questions or requests, and presenting summaries to the team afterward.

After several months on the project, Jevah felt very isolated. Skurs was still mostly silent or absent in the evenings; she saw few or no other Bajorans on the station. Occasionally she stayed late to work, and saw cleaning or maintenance crews, but there was no opportunity for speaking, for any social interaction; the crews were mostly so intimidated they did little more than look sideways at her. The frequent social gatherings they attended offered little more; she was too aware of Pinha's smug looks, the sad and brittle comfort women, and the power clique of senior officers who gathered around Dukat. The parties were not entertainment or relaxing; they were work, defense, apprehension.

She knew from long experience that as a worker, a "resource" to the Cardassians, she was not considered to have particular value, but she had never wanted to fall into the unthinking apathy she saw around her on so many Bajoran faces.

After several months during which she had virtually no contact with anyone other than the project team, Skurs announced another party, to celebrate some holiday or anniversary event scheduled on Cardassia Prime. Jevah never really understood what it was for; there were cultural and historical inferences that only a Cardassian could understand.

She obtained another dress from the stores held for the comfort women, and like all her other recent clothing, altered it somewhat to be less revealing; she had no intention of finding herself in another situation with Gul Pinha or anyone like him.

This party was probably the most extravagant she had seen; there were decorations, ritual greetings exchanged, and melancholy talk of distant families and friends; the women in the room were less regarded than any time in Jevah's experience. They did not mind, of course; the women gathered in small groups and chatted quietly, not wanting to interfere with the mood of the room. Nuala, the girl who had given her the pill at the last gathering, stayed around Jevah for some time, and when she sensed a moment of inattention, she whispered in her ear, "I can pass messages to the Resistance." Jevah looked at her, doubtful.

"How?" she said quietly.

Naula laughed, tapped her glass to Jevah's, and sipped her drink. "Maintenance and cleaning crew," she confided. "Code words. We can get information out."

"I will let you know when I have something," Jevah told her.

"Get us as much information as you can," Naula smiled gaily, "we need targets." Jevah merely nodded her head; she was determined that any information she provided would not cause any deaths if she could manage it; would certainly cause no innocent deaths.

After dinner and some hours of socializing, the party degenerated into a more somber tone while the Cardassians sat in groups and talked about holidays they'd spent in the past, the families they missed, and what they would be doing were they home. To Jevah's surprise, many of the officers left without women; the Bajorans left in the room looked bewildered, if slightly relieved, and returned to their rooms quietly. Jevah and Skurs were among the last to leave; Skurs had said little the entire evening, but drank a great deal.

"That was a very strange gathering," Jevah noted as she pulled off her extravagant dress.

"It is a holiday on Cardassia. We generally spend it with family and friends, with traditional meals and activities. There is—no room for families here." He shrugged. "I am unmarried as well, so have no family to be concerned about." Drink seemed to loosen his tongue. "The woman I was to enjoin died in an accident, about the same time you—came here."

"That call," Jevah remembered, "the one Dukat came to tell you about."

"Yes."

"I am sorry."

"Why? You did not know her."

"For your hurt, I am sorry."

"It was an arranged joining; I had only met her twice. But family is important to us; I had hoped to be starting one soon. My family will not arrange another joining for me as long as I am here."

Jevah was quiet; there was nothing she could think of to say that would not come out wrong. She was his bed-partner, and he was longing for a wife and family. "I hope—"

"Say nothing more. It is not the time." He poured himself another glass of kanar, and stretched out on the couch. "Go to bed."

Jevah went quietly; this was a mood she had never seen and did not want to explore. She showered and went to bed, sleeping heavily, and never heard Skurs come in. When she woke, he was curled around her, his breath hot on her shoulders, and she was both surprised and comforted.

Most of the station staff had been given an additional day off for the holiday; a skeleton staff covered essential operations. The workers, of course, were not given a holiday, but the project team had taken the day. Jevah woke later than usual, and wandered restlessly around the room while Skurs slept. She was kept so busy that she rarely had free time; now that she had some, she had nothing to fill it with. After a while, Skurs came out of the 'fresher; he was not wearing his usual uniform, but a casual tunic, and he looked more relaxed than she had seen for months.

He pulled her close, nuzzled her neck, and Jevah relaxed against him. It had been several days since he had wanted sex, so this was not unexpected; what surprised her was that he settled on the couch with her, and made no further advances. "I have arranged for some leave," he said after a long silence. "It is early enough in the project that I can take some time without greatly affecting anything."

"You need it," Jevah said, "you have been working long hours."

"There is an area called Pelmet that has been much used as a recreation area; the officers assigned here often go there for leave if there is not enough time to go to Cardassia. I have reserved a space there for six days."

"I have heard of it; it sounds very nice."

"We leave in three days. Bring casual wear and one or two nice things; we can arrange whatever else we need on planet."

Jevah's heart pounded. While he spoke she had been thinking that she would be left, that she would be vulnerable to other Cardassians on the station; she had jumped to the conclusion that Skurs would go to such a place by himself. She sighed in relief.

"What?" Skurs asked.

"I had—thought you would go alone," she confessed.

"It had occurred to me, but you are not so noisy or bothersome that I feel the need for solitude."

"I suppose that is a compliment of sorts," she smiled.

"Indeed. Were you a chatterer, you would not be here."

Jevah's pleasure cooled rapidly as she was reminded of her status. She had managed, occasionally, to forget the fact that she was disposable, a resource, a convenience. Skurs, in spite of his treatment of her, in spite of the occasional conversations they had about the Occupation or the treatment of Bajorans, still could not understand the precarious position she found herself in; it was likely, she thought, that he gave it no consideration at all.

"I've forgotten to keep track of dates," she confessed, "I am not even sure what season it is on Bajor. It's timeless, here."

"Late summer, I believe," Skurs said. "I was hoping for a quieter season in the Pelmet area, but the schedule would not allow me to be gone any later in the year. In any case, it will be cold."

"Pelmet, cold? Even in the winter, it does not get cold; they never have frost there."

"Perhaps for your people it is not cold, but mine are from a desert planet."

"We shall have to find ways to keep you warm," she teased, distracting him, turning both of them away from where her thoughts were leading. As expected, he took the idea and pulled her closer, his hands moving to wander her body under her clothing.

Jevah dropped the few garments she had selected into the bag Skurs had brought for her; she glanced around the room. There was nothing to look for; her few possessions fit easily into the bag with space to spare. Skurs had long since packed his few casual items into his duffel; he took along one uniform, plus the one he would wear for travel. This was a new experience for Jevah; the only travel she'd done in the past was moving from farm to city, and from her aunt's home to the station.

"Ready," she announced, and picked up her bag. Skurs grabbed his bag, tucked a bottle of kanar into the opening, and slung it over his shoulder. They caught the shuttle to Bajor just in time, and sat in the front section with the Cardassian seniors. Jevah remembered vividly the last time she'd ridden in a shuttle; she'd been uncertain and scared, not knowing what she would face in the station. She still felt uncertain; she knew the station but was still unsure about spending actual leisure time with Skurs, as if they were actually lovers.

The shuttle ride was uneventful; they disembarked into a small station, where she was searched and her pass carefully examined. Her presence was not questioned; a Cardassian bringing a Bajoran woman planetside was apparently not an uncommon occurrence. Skurs had arrange an aircar; they picked it up and programmed the destination into the autopilot, filed a flight plan, and lifted without haste.

The flight to Pelmet was silent; Jevah spent her time looking at her planet from above for the first time. She watched buildings and fields reduced in size to toys and then to vague shapes for a few minutes, but all too soon the aircar began to drop. From the air, Pelmet was a bucolic village; a small group of buildings around a central core; other small buildings were arranged along the lake shore and the forest edge. Boats lined a dock next to the largest building at the shore, and chairs circled tables on a large patio on the north side of the building.

Skurs parked the aircar in a lot near the large building; they grabbed their duffels and walked to what turned out to be a combination lodge, reception, and conference facility, complete with a few small shops and a restaurant. They had been given a cabin nearest the forest; the walk gave Jevah a chance to look around. A worn path led through the grassy field that surrounded the area; the cabins were set apart from each other and separated by strips of trees. Their unit was small, consisting of an open room with a small kitchen area, luxurious 'fresher, and wide bed; the sitting area held an entertainment center and communications console, comfortable chairs. A small sitting area off the back door faced the forest.

It was midmorning in this time zone; Jevah dropped her bag and wandered out the back door into the edge of the forest. She walked until she was surrounded by trees, and could see no sign of civilization, hugged herself, and sighed deeply. Skurs came up behind her, almost tentatively, and touched her shoulder. "This is like your home?" he asked.

"No, we had open fields with trees in lines between, but this is... real. The station is all metal and angles and regular shapes, this is wood and grass and brush and irregular shapes... it just feels right."

"Cardassia is a desert planet; I grew up in cities. This is new to me, this growth everywhere." He looked around warily. "It feels crowded and secretive."

"There is so much here!" Jevah exclaimed. "Look!" She pointed to a little furry creature running up a tree, and a tiny blossom of brightly-colored lichen on a nearby trunk. "This tree is probably 200 years old." They wandered through the darkening forest, away from the cabin and the meadow, Jevah pointing out items that caught her eye.

Skurs seemed to enjoy the walk, but after a time he shuddered. "Let's go back," he said quietly. "It is too wild, too uncontrolled."

Jevah led the way back to the forest edge, following their path and the light, and they stepped out to just behind their little cabin. Skurs took a deep breath and walked around to the front, where he stared into the distance for a moment before going inside and pouring himself a glass from the bottle of kanar he'd brought. "This is outside my experience," he said.

"That is how I felt on the station at first," Jevah told him. "So enclosed, so surrounded by metal and people, no open spaces. It took me a while to adjust."

They stayed in the cabin for the afternoon, Skurs seeming more comfortable inside the enclosed space. When the evening approached, they walked to the main lodge building, and had dinner. The room was crowded with Cardassians and a few Bajorans; Jevah eyed them curiously. They must be those in official approval with the Occupation government; they appeared comfortable and well-fed. The Cardassians in the room were mostly in small groups or singles, only a few of them accompanied by Bajoran companions. Those carried the unmistakable attitude of high rank; they had far more of the self-confident air than the usual soldier.

After dinner they wandered toward the lake; on a stand near the water, a small band was playing music that drew them. Bajoran couples were dancing, moving in stately figures around each other, bowing and weaving. The Cardassians watched or gathered in their own groups, talking quietly or staring out over the lake. The water was still, and the colored lamps strung along the dock reflected like stars. They walked away from the noise and music, along the lake shore, away from people and buildings, Jevah enjoying the quiet of the night and the chirpy noises of insects and birds. "All we need is a fire," she commented.

"Why fire?"

"Fire is something primal for us, I think; it makes me feel comforted and safe and peaceful. It is protection against the cold and dark and unknown. When I was a child, we would spend one night in summer around a fire, talking and playing games and watching the stars and the sparks, just feeling like we were part of our world and a part of each other."

"We do something similar, in the heated caves below the mountains, in the darkest and coldest time of the year."

"Maybe all species find a special time to remind themselves of their earliest times, and their common beginnings."

"Perhaps we have more in common than we knew."

They walked back toward the lodge, watching as the lamps along the dock were extinguished, the band packed their instruments away, the watchers and dancers wandered to their respective pursuits. The little shop in the lodge was still open and Skurs picked up a few items they could have for breakfast: fruits, breads, cheese, and they walked along the little path back to their cabin. Jevah was delighted to see the luminescent growths along the sides of the path that guided them in the darkness. Still, Skurs led; his night vision was far superior to hers.

Back in the cabin, Skurs stored his purchases, and settled in onto the couch, pulling out the bottle of kanar and a glass. He sipped thoughtfully at his drink, staring out the window, almost unmoving. "It is a beautiful place, this; I have never seen anything like it. The few times I have been on-planet, I have worked at the administrative centers or in the mines."

"Where are the places you find beauty on Cardassia?" Jevah asked him, setting her glass aside.

"The desert is bare, empty, but there is life everywhere, if you know how to find it. Surviving in it is an adventure, a challenge, and when you find the coolness of a cave or shade, a tiny cache of water, you feel that you have accomplished something. But there are rocky places, outcroppings and stony hills that are so –" his voice faltered. "I don't have words to describe them, but there is something inside me that finds them beautiful."

"I sometimes think that we can find wonderful things anywhere, if we just look for them," Jevah mused. She shivered; the nights were cooler here, even on the plains, and she had become accustomed to the heat of the station.

Skurs drew her closer, and moved his lips to her neck. "Keep me warm," he suggested in a low voice. Jevah turned, pulled him close, and nibbled the ridge along his jaw, moving to his sensitive ear; she warmed her hands and then untied his tunic and slid her arms around his waist. Now he shivered, and pulled her shirt off her, pulling the sides of his tunic around both of them while his hands roamed her breasts, her shoulders, her hips. Jevah moaned against his neck, pressing herself against his warmth, and he stood up abruptly, lifting her in his arms, and carried her to the bed. He stood above her, pulled off the rest of his clothing, then removed hers, and threw back the blankets that covered the bed. Jevah made room for him, scooting into the covers, then pulled them over his body as he joined her in the coolness of the bed. He was urgent like never before; intense and electric, and she felt herself pulled along in his wake, responding strongly, abandoning herself to the sensation of his hands and mouth and skin.


	13. Chapter 13

Jevah woke alone; there was a tray beside the bed holding fruit and cheese and a sweet hot drink. She stretched, considered, and chose luxury; she ate breakfast in bed. She lazed for a while, then got up and showered and dressed. She refreshed the hot drink and sat in the back of the cabin for a while, facing the forest, thinking very little.

 _You could go_ , she told herself. _You could disappear into the trees. They would never find you._ _They might not even look._ The thought was tempting, like forbidden sweetness, but somehow it did not seem right. What could she bring to the Resistance? Or would she simply get lost and starve in the forest, or fall prey to some hungry animal?

She thought about going, about taking on the fight, but she had been brought up during the Occupation, and passive acceptance had become her key to survival. Doing anything more felt so dangerous that she wasn't sure it was possible. Like a one-legged man dancing, perhaps, or a blind woman becoming a painter. She paused, wondering. _Have I become so accustomed to the Occupation that I accept it as normal, and I am unable to break from its confines? Wasn't this exactly what the Cardassians were trying to accomplish? Does that make me a collaborator of sorts? Or just someone who can't break out of the world-view the Cardassians have presented?_

Skurs joined her then, carrying a bundle. "I've brought the aircar," he said. "We're going into the mountains."

"Where?" Jevah asked quietly. Her comfort, her enjoyment of the day had been shattered by her own introspection, and she felt emptied out, brittle, fragile.

"It's not far," he said, and pulled her to her feet. She followed in silence, fastening her safety harness, watching out the window as the aircar lifted and turned toward the hills that rose from the trees some miles away.

After a short flight, they landed in a tiny meadow surrounded by rocky outcroppings, and Skurs led Jevah down a lightly-traveled path through the rocks to a wide, flat area consisting of deep pools, most bubbling with heat. The air was warm and humid, and the whole looked like a series of pots set about to cook at different temperatures. "Hot springs," Skurs explained,

He tested the water of the nearest, and pulled away, checked another. "Better," he said, and worked his way along the springs until he found one that suited him.

Jevah dipped her fingers into the water; they felt scalded. "That's too hot for me," she said, and started searching for a more moderate temperature. She found one relatively nearby, and looked around to see Skurs strip off the last of his clothing and step into the pool. She glanced around before draping her tunic and trousers on a rock, and cautiously moved into her chosen pool. She was not used to casual nudity; even in the worker barracks the occupants had pretended not to see each other as they changed clothing or used the communal showers, to provide the illusion of privacy.

After an hour in the water, Jevah was so completely relaxed that she began to fear she would slip under the surface and not have the strength to stand up. She climbed out of the pool and picked up one of the towels Skurs had brought, wrapped it around herself and wandered to his pool. He was sprawled on a flat rocky surface next to the pool; sheets of steam seemed to pour off his body. He groaned, and turned to face her. "I have not been so warm since leaving Cardassia Prime," he said. "I never thought immersion in water could be so pleasant."

"I almost fell asleep," she confessed. "I had to get out for a while. My muscles feel like they have no strength at all."

"I brought a meal, if you want anything; in the bundle there."

Jevah dug through the indicated pile and found a water bottle, and bread wraps folded around a mixture of vegetables and herbs. She brought them back to where Skurs had rolled onto his back, and they shared the meal. "How did you find this place?" Jevah asked.

"I spent some time looking at the promotional material in the lodge. There are many promises of entertainment and excitement, but this one appealed to me."

"What other kinds of things do they offer?"

"A village nearby of craftspeople who have shops open during the summer; they make various foods and articles by hand. Boat tours, forest and nature guided walks, bird-watching, some foolish process of standing on top of a mountain with artificial wings and jumping off. All very nicely presented as ways to separate visitors from their money." Jevah laughed.

"Did anything else appeal to you?"

"No. I am enjoying the quiet here; there is rarely any on the station. We are always surrounded by crowds of people with their own agendas, or with mechanical noises or recycled air. To be here with nothing to accomplish is the most pleasant thing I could be doing." He reached up and stroked her arm; she glanced down at him. "It would be interesting to be intimate here in the open, in the wild," he mused, "but I am too relaxed to put much effort into it."

Jevah scoffed. "That's the first time I recall you being too tired for bed sports."

Skurs grinned, more relaxed than she had ever seen him. "For now," he warned. "There is much of the rest of the day to consider." She laughed, and stood up. Skurs sat up enough to reach the pool and slid back into the water. Jevah wandered around the area for a while, enjoying the quiet, the cool breeze that occasionally blew the steamy air aside, and the quiet. She heard nothing but birds chirping, the quiet burbling of moving water, even the flap of wings as some creature flew overhead. She found a comfortably padded seat on a shaded, moss-covered log and leaned back against a tree to drowse.

By mid-afternoon, Jevah was exhausted, but so utterly relaxed from the hours spent in the hot spring that she could barely walk; her legs were actually wobbly. They had not encountered another person all day. There were a couple of aircars parked nearby when they returned to the meadow, but paths led in all directions, so she decided that there must be a great many springs in the area.

They returned to the cabin and showered, ate an early dinner at the restaurant, and watched the sun set from the edge of the lake, a good distance from any building. Flying creatures hovered over the lake, occasionally diving and flying up with wriggling fish in their claws. Other birds swooped at insects; Jevah saw a large forest herbivore step delicately to the edge of the lake to drink. She nudged Skurs, who watched until the creature returned to the safety of the forest.

When darkness had settled in, they returned to the cabin. Skurs mentioned sitting on the deck near the forest, so Jevah gathered a couple of blankets while he stepped out the back door. She followed him a few minutes later, and froze in delight. Where there had been nothing but the deck, rustic furniture, and an open area, there was now a leaping fire in a stone ring, with a heap of firewood beside it. A wide, comfortable-looking settee was placed nearby, with several pillows. Other chairs were scattered around the fire ring, along with a few small tables.

"What is this?" she asked in wonder.

"Fire," Skurs offered from the settee. "You seemed to find the idea of it appealing, so I arranged for this to be brought in while we were gone."

"Really? You did this for me?" Jevah walked to the settee and sat beside him. "This is—incredible." She hugged him. "That's—thank you." She placed the folded blankets at the end of the couch, and stared at the flames.

Skurs sprawled out facing the fire. "The heat is welcome, I admit, but the flickering light is a bit disturbing."

"Imagine," Jevah whispered, "tens of thousands of years ago, when life was just beginning here, or a million other places. Species of people, crouched around fires, afraid of the dark, telling stories, looking at the stars. Living in primitive conditions, with only tools they could make with their hands."

"I much prefer the present," Skurs said, "but there is a feeling of safety against the dark, being here with a fire." He pulled Jevah down to lie between him and the fire. "You can shade my eyes," he told her. Jevah continued to look into the flames, watching the patterns of light, the waves of heat move over the burning wood, the small shifting as pieces were consumed and fell apart. It was like a meditation exercise; it was some time before she realized that Skurs was pressing against her, and his free hand was moving slowly along her hip.

"Are you recovered, then?" she asked archly. "You were much too relaxed earlier."

"Very recovered," he responded quietly. "It is likely that your ancient peoples spent their time by their fires in such ways. Who am I to disdain tradition?"

Jevah turned to face him, and scooted close. She kissed him, then sat up and tugged off her tunic. "This is much more comfortable than a cave or meadow," she suggested. Skurs rolled onto his back, pulling her onto his chest, and they explored each other, familiar by now with the touches that could bring simmering feelings to a full boil. After some time, Skurs stood and pulled off his clothing, then slipped Jevah's trousers down her hips before moving back to the couch and pulling her atop him again.

She kissed him again, then nibbled and licked his neck ridges until he was shuddering with sensation before moving herself above and onto him. They rocked, moving against each other, Jevah arched above him, seeing his eyes watching her in the flickering firelight. One hand held her close, guiding her movements to match his, the other caressed her breast or neck, running fingers along her jawline or occasionally into her hair to pull her down for deep kisses. Jevah cried out when he released her to nibble along her collarbone; the sensation rising in her was stronger than she'd ever felt, and she finally exploded in release. Skurs shuddered with her, and when she felt him relaxing, she lowered herself slowly onto his chest. When his breathing slowed, she pulled one of the blankets she'd brought over them both, and slipped down to lie next to him, her head on his shoulder.

Drowsing, Jevah heard the noise of twigs snapping, branches moving, coming from the forest. She raised her head in time to see two people emerge from the trees and approach the fire. After a few seconds, she recognized a Bajoran woman and a Cardassian man. In another few seconds her befuddled brain realized the man was the Prefect. She startled, almost leaping up from the couch before remembering she was undressed, and reached frantically for the fallen tunic she'd worn earlier. Skurs, alerted by her movement, also woke, looked around, and jerked into alertness when he caught sight of Dukat and his companion. He slid Jevah aside while she fumbled her tunic over her head, and reached for his trousers under the blanket. Jevah caught a glimpse of Dukat smiling, the lady turning away, and she blushed deeply.

"Prefect," Skurs said when he had pulled on his trousers, "welcome."

Dukat strolled closer to the fire, and Skurs waved him to a chair. "We were walking and heard noises; I regret having disturbed your—quiet time."

Skurs opened his mouth to reply, then stopped himself with an obvious effort. Jevah stood, her tunic flapping around her thighs, looked around for her pants, but could not see them in the flickering firelight. "Would you like a drink?" she asked, desperately seeking to divert attention from their obvious post-coital state.

"Yes, thank you," chirped the woman who had settled into a chair next to Dukat. Jevah realized that this was not Naprem, and turned into the cabin to hide her expression. She had heard that the Prefect liked women—many different women—and the presence of this one seemed to confirm it. She pulled on a longer tunic while inside, and brought out the ever-present bottle of kanar and several glasses. Wine was poured and distributed, and Jevah noticed with amusement that the Cardassians were sitting closer to the fire than she found comfortable.

"I was surprised to see you here," the Prefect was saying. "I was aware that you had taken some leave time, but I had no idea to encounter you here."

"It is a popular place," Skurs noted. "And reasonable in cost for someone of my rank." He smiled slightly. "The hot springs in the mountains are very comfortable."

"We shall have to try them, perhaps?" Dukat addressed the comment to his companion, who merely smiled. "Ah, I have forgotten. This is Jesper Pellis, who is also visiting here." He nodded toward Jevah and Skurs, and spoke their names. Pellis smiled, revealing deep dimples, and nodded her head, then sipped at her drink.

"Have you been here before?" Skurs asked. Jevah sensed that he was straining for conversation; there was little enough in common with Dukat to engage in general talk.

"A time or two. For someone from a desert planet, it is an exotic place to visit."

"It has taken me some time to adjust," Skurs acknowledged. "But I believe I could come to be comfortable in such a place." Jevah was quiet, sipping her wine, her mind desperately searching for some safe topic she could bring, something that would smooth the desperate embarrassment she felt at being caught sleeping next to Skurs in front of a fire.

"We are planning on boating tomorrow," she said, and caught a slightly surprised look on Skurs' face from the corner of her eye. "It is something I've had very little experience with, so we will likely find a guide or someone experienced to accompany us."

"That is not something I think of as entertainment," Dukat said wryly. "Cardassians do not, as a rule, learn to swim."

"But that fear of the unknown can be fun," Jevah said, somehow wanting to challenge him. "Children scare themselves with high places. They scream, but they are having a wonderful time."

"Very small children, perhaps," Dukat acknowledged. "I am too aware of the real dangers of such an activity to find it entertaining."

"Perhaps so," Jevah agreed. "We will let you know how the experience turns out."

Too late she realized she had indeed challenged him, and he rose to it without delay. "We could accompany you," he offered, a glint in his eye showing that he had recognized her words for what they were. "If there is room for more."

"I am sure there is room," she replied with a half-smile. She winced internally: she had committed them both to spending part of a day with Dukat and his companion. It was not the way she had planned to end the awkwardness.

A bird hooted from the forest, and Pellis shivered. "It sounds like the marauder birds from my home district," she explained at Dukat's look. "They are quite fierce and can carry off small animals." Dukat drew her against his shoulder, and glanced at Skurs.

"Perhaps we should finish our walk," he said, and drained his drink. "It is late, and I would not want to disturb you further."

"No disturbance at all," Skurs said weakly, but he rose and gathered an empty glass, handing it to Jevah.

"Good night, then," Pellis offered as she and Dukat turned onto the glowing path that led along the forest edge.

They gathered up the rest of the glasses and the kanar and retreated into the cabin, and Jevah cleaned the dishes and put them away.

"What have I done?" she asked. Skurs looked at her, and his mouth twitched.

"You have arranged for us to spend social time with the Prefect. He intimidates you—he intimidates most people, but he is not someone I would consider a casual acquaintance. Now we must pretend to be that for a day." He smiled openly. "This is not so different from those social gatherings on the station. Not only that, we must go in a boat onto water—and none of us can claim to be uncomfortable or distressed, because we would appear weak."

Jevah laughed hesitantly. "It's funny, in a horrifying way." She looked at him. "I am sorry. I was embarrassed and was searching for something to say."

Skurs came to where she was sitting on a big overstuffed chair. "It is no matter. It will not be a permanent situation. I will find a guide tomorrow who can take us for a limited time. There will be little loss of dignity."

"It's just not how I wanted to spend my first ever vacation," she muttered.

Skurs pulled her to her feet, and kissed her. "It truly does not matter. There is ample time for things we enjoy to compensate for those we do not."

She leaned against him, circling him with her arms. "The fire was wonderful," she said.

"It will be there again tomorrow," Skurs told her.


	14. Chapter 14

The next day dawned cloudy and dim; the air was hot and muggy. By the time Skurs and Jevah walked to the lodge to meet the boat tour operator, the clouds had dropped and a light rain was falling; by the time they finished discussing the trip, it had increased to a downpour. Skurs looked relieved; Jevah was grateful as well. Skurs used the front desk to message the Prefect and cancel the outing; they looked around aimlessly after that was accomplished. Other than a few shops and the restaurant, there was little to occupy their time in the lodge.

They plodded back to the cabin, Jevah enjoying the rain. "This air is like breathing soup," Skurs complained.

"It won't last long," Jevah pointed out; "this will blow through in a couple of hours. We could build a fire again, and sit on the deck."

"As much as I would prefer to avoid it, I should check in to the project files," Skurs suggested.

"Don't spend much time on it," Jevah told him. "You're supposed to be on vacation."

They returned to the cabin in the rain, in time to interrupt the staff member who cleaned the room on a daily basis. The woman was older, muscular and lean, and was finishing the room as they entered. "I am almost done," she apologized, and Skurs shrugged.

"It is of no importance," he said, and went out the back, closing the door.

"Casti Jevah, you have something for me?" the woman asked quietly from the kitchen area where she was putting away the dishes.

Jevah looked at her apprehensively. "For you?" she asked.

"Some files," the woman repeated. Jevah walked to stand beside her, fumbling with the dispenser as if to create a drink. "This is a safer contact method than on the station," the woman said. "Binna sends her greetings as well."

Jevah accepted her then; it was unlikely that anyone at this place would know Binna's name. "I have a data rod in my bag," she said quietly, and moved toward the 'fresher. She combed her hair, tied it back, and returned to the counter with the data rod hidden in her hand. "Would you hand me a couple of mugs?" she asked in a normal tone of voice as Skurs re-entered the room. The woman reached for the mugs, brought them over, and when Jevah took them, she made sure the data rod shifted from hand to hand, the movements disguised between them.

"I've made tea," Jevah told Skurs, turning away from the woman as if she was no longer there. "I got chilled on the walk back, and you must be even colder."

Skurs took a mug, drank deeply from it, and set it on a table near the comm console. "That is indeed welcome," he said. " I am going to check the project status."

"They will pull you back in," Jevah warned, "and you will spend your day working."

The woman opened the door, and turned back into the room. "Please call the desk if you have further needs for food or supplies," she said, and met Jevah's eyes. She nodded firmly and pulled the door closed behind her.

Jevah settled on the couch, looking through the list of available reading and viewing material. She was determined not to work; this could be the only opportunity for leisure she might ever have. She thought about the woman who had cleaned the room, wondered when the data might get to the Resistance, and how soon they would use it. She had, for a time, gotten involved in the project, but while she had never forgotten that it would use Bajoran workers as slave labor, she still drew the line at causing unnecessary deaths. She drifted into imagining the Resistance members discussing her data, marking targets, and wondered how they would use the information to cause havoc and delay schedules.

"—did you hear me?" Skurs was speaking, in the tone of someone who had repeated themselves several times.

"What? Sorry, no."

"The Prefect is having a social gathering tonight; we are invited."

"Oh. Is that good?"

"We can hardly refuse it; the invitation was personal. This is more than just something sent to the officers on-station." He paused. "Dress is casual."

Jevah smiled. "Perhaps he is bored with a day of rain and wants company."

The rain had mostly stopped by the time they walked toward the location of the party, but the wind was still blowing and spatters of cool drops startled them occasionally. _Even so_ , Jevah thought, _it's real, it's outside. I wouldn't trade it for the station._

The Prefect had chosen a larger accommodation for his time at the lake; it had an expansive covered porch with a fireplace, a wide, comfortable open room filled with padded chairs and couches, dramatic lighting, a large bar attended by one of the lodge staffers, a buffet maintained by several more workers, and an interior fireplace surrounded by more chairs and tables. The room was fuller than Jevah imagined; at least forty people had crowded into the space and were circulating, chatting, drinking, laughing. There was none of the wildness she had seen at parties on the station, but she realized that it was still early.

She recognized some of the other guests they had seen during their walks or visits to the restaurant; most of the people, however, were strangers. Many were Bajorans, looking prosperous and content, mixed fairly evenly among the crowd of Cardassians. Jevah saw that not all the Cardassians were military; many appeared to be administrators or scientists. There were few of the women she identified as "comfort women," most of the Cardassians here were either alone or with Cardassian women. She was one of only a few Bajoran woman in the room accompanying a Cardassian.

They mixed easily into the crowd; this was not a status dance amongst those vying for power on the station. These people were comfortable in their positions, in their lives, and mostly appeared to be bored with the unexpected change in the weather.

After gathering drinks and loading plates with food, Skurs and Jevah settled in chairs near the fire; the conversation here was so general as to be almost boring. People discussed their activities at the lake, their experiences in other leisure settings, and told anecdotes they had heard about activities in Cardassian society. Jevah tried to pay attention, but found that she knew little of Cardassian politics and nothing of most of the activities being discussed. She made it a game to pretend to be absorbed in one conversation or another, nodding, laughing, agreeing on cue.

After an hour, Jevah was uncomfortable and distracted. Skurs had gotten involved in yet another technical conversation, and they might have been discussing their subject in an alien language. She leaned toward Skurs long enough to whisper "I'm going outside for a bit," saw his abrupt nod, and stood. She returned their dishes to the buffet area, and made her way through the crowd to the door. The air was cooler outside, and fresh, and the fire on the porch was burning hotly, in wonderful solitude. Jevah decided that it was probably uncomfortably chilly for a Cardassian out here, and she stood by the fire, looking toward the lake, and enjoyed the quiet, hearing only the hum of conversation behind her and the quiet night noises of the meadow.

A short time later, as she felt herself beginning to relax, the door opened again, and closed. Jevah did not turn, not wanting to invite attention or company, and hoped that her dark clothing would disguise her enough to allow her to go unnoticed. She felt more than heard someone standing behind her, and jumped only slightly when warm hands settled on her shoulders. Skurs must have reached his saturation point as well.

She leaned back against him, and felt his breath in her hair. After a few minutes of silence, he shifted, and Jevah felt his lips and teeth on her neck. His hands moved down to her waist, then stroked her belly and traveled down her sides, before moving back up under the tunic to cup her breasts. Hard thumbs pinched her lightly, rolling the tips of her nipples in warm fingers, while teeth nibbled her ear and down her neck. Her breath came faster, and she pressed back slightly, feeling his arousal against her backside. "Shall we leave, then?" she whispered. He turned her around and kissed her deeply, pressing and lifting her body into his. It was so dark that she could barely see his outline; the ridges on his forehead occasionally showed up as slightly lighter shapes against the glow from the building's windows.

Without disengaging, he moved to a wide, comfortable chair with a high back turned away from the windows and settled into it, pulling Jevah's trousers off before sitting her on his lap. They kissed again, and he lifted Jevah to straddle him, then unfastened his pants. Her tunic had migrated to around her neck, freeing her to his exploring hands, and when she was lifted and impaled on his erection, she gasped and shuddered. His hands on her hips were firm and strong, guiding her movement; his breath in her hair was harsh and flavored strongly with the kanar that had flowed freely. Jevah put her hands on his chest, fingers brushing the sensitive neck ridges, and held on, flowing with the moment, abandoning herself to the sensation of this unexpected encounter.

He seemed to go on forever, and Jevah moaned; she had not thought she could feel so much without bursting into a thousand pieces. He finally groaned low in his throat and spasmed inside her, his hands clutching her hips so strongly she thought he might leave bruises. She met his release with her own and for a time all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and his, the sound of her own heartbeat. After several minutes, when she could breathe normally again, she kissed him, and leaned her head against his chest. His hands stroked her back, warm and soothing.

"I should go back," he whispered. "Wait a while before you return." He moved quickly to fasten and arrange his clothing, then kissed her from above and behind the chair, again cupping her breasts, and was gone.

Jevah looked out at the lake, listened to the sound of the party behind her, and watched the fire for a while before going back to the door in search of the 'fresher. The room inside was hotter and noisier than before, and struggling through the crowd slowed her down before she finally found it. She found Skurs, again seated by the fire, with a sheaf of papers spread before him. He was again deep into a technical discussion with one of the other Cardassians; the notes he was scribbling on the paper were full of formulae and sketches. She sipped her drink, watching, and was suddenly caught by suspicion. How long would it take to have written all those notes, to have drawn all those sketches? She looked at him again; he did not have the look of a man who had recently had a sexual release, a look she had seen on him often enough.

 _Oh, Prophets. If that wasn't Skurs, who in oblivion was it?_ Jevah felt herself blushing; she sipped her drink and tried to control herself. She started looking around the room, but she could see little over the shoulders of the people who surrounded the fire and threw words and ideas into the discussion. There were no stairs; this lodge was all on a single level, and she was not sure she wanted to meet the eyes of whoever had been outside with her. Would they have seen her? Known her? Or could it simply be an anonymous encounter, a case of mistaken identity on both sides?

Jevah spent the rest of the evening near Skurs; she was afraid to be out of his sight. She spoke with only a few people, hesitant to meet the eyes of any males; the few other women in the room did not approach her. She did nothing more than drink: kanar, wine, brandy, whatever else came to hand. Her mind was whirling, trying to avoid thinking about the encounter by the fire, refusing to compare it with her experience of the night before, refusing to think that someone in this room had taken her so casually and anonymously, and that she had not known the difference.

It had been _good_ , she could not deny that, but she was both desperate and afraid to know who had been with her on the porch. Would he do more or approach her again? Would she be taken like a game piece, moved to another unknown and dangerous position? Or would she be disposed of, taken out of the game permanently? She had gotten comfortable with Skurs, comfortable with her work, comfortable with the station, even mostly forgetting about the attack from Pinha. Now her place was teetering again, her status variable, her danger looming. Her entire existence suddenly felt precarious.

She thought about Skurs. He had not reacted badly after Pinha had taken her; he had been careful of her, as if she were ill, but had not treated her any differently. She knew men among the Bajorans who had not been able to accept when their wives or lovers or daughters were used sexually by Cardassians; they had become jealous, possessive, or abusive, denigrating the women more than the soldiers had. Others had accepted, understood that it was a part of life that could not be controlled, and endeavored to heal the spiritual wounds that followed, or simply pretended that nothing had happened.

She trembled, suddenly nauseated, and rushed to the 'fresher again, relieved to find there was no line of people waiting. She threw up the alcohol she'd been swilling down, then heaved for a while longer before her empty stomach stopped trying to turn her inside out. After she was sure she was finished, she cleaned her face and mouth, and moved back into the room, collecting a few bland crackers and a cup of tea from the buffet before heading back to the fire. Turning, she bumped into a Cardassian, who caught her arm and steadied her. "Jevah. Are you well?"

Jevah was barely surprised to realize it was the Prefect; she understood there was nothing more this evening that could startle her. She looked up at him, shook her head. "I am well enough," she said, "although perhaps I've had too much to drink."

"Let's get you back to the fire," he suggested, and escorted her to the seat she'd had before, near the fire and Skurs, but out of the way.

"I can arrange to have you taken back to your cabin, if you need to leave," he said, but Jevah shook her head, then regretted that movement.

"I will be fine in a while," she said, "I just—have a lot to think about."

"Very well," he replied, and Jevah glanced up, catching an odd look on his face. "If you change your mind, don't hesitate to let me know."

He took her hand, squeezed it, and Jevah felt oddly comforted. "Thank you, Prefect," she replied, her voice shaking.

The party finally ended; Jevah had spent the remaining hours in her corner, ignoring the few attempts made by others to start a conversation. She nibbled her crackers, sipped on tea, and watched the fire, tuning out voices and noises and people, feeling only the warmth of the fire failing to soothe the cold inside her. She and Skurs walked back to their cabin, Skurs talking about the ideas the conversation had generated, about filtration improvements to life support systems that could reduce the size and increase the efficiency of the systems planned for the mining colony. They reached the cabin and Skurs went directly to the console, sending off messages to the project team members; Jevah showered and crawled under the heavy blankets on the bed, shivering in spite of the heat.

She could not stay with a coherent train of thought; her mind was whirling with reactions and emotions, replaying the scene by the fire, examining it from many angles, mostly shaded with self-loathing. How could she have not known it was not Skurs? The scent of the man had been Cardassian, of that she was sure. She had seen his forehead ridges in the reflected light of the fire and from the windows, seen the light reflected from glossy black hair, but she could not recall any further detail that might prove identity. And what would it matter if she could? There was nothing he had done that would be considered wrong in the Cardassian Occupation. Skurs had apparently noticed nothing, and Jevah wasn't sure it would matter so much if he had. She was a convenience for him, and she was not sure if she was anything else, or if her removal would be anything more than a minor disadvantage.

She finally drifted into sleep, tossing and turning during the night, waking in starts, forgetting for moments where she was. Skurs woke with her after repeated interruptions, and pulled her to lie next to him. "What is wrong?"

"Bad dreams," Jevah said, grasping for an explanation. "Again and again—" It was not necessarily an untruth.

He rubbed warm hands over her shoulders, then dug deeper, feeling the tension of her muscles. "Relax," he murmured, massaging her neck and shoulders. "Tomorrow is always different from today."

Jevah shuddered, then turned as Skurs moved above her to press his fingers deeply into her tense muscles. She groaned, felt herself relax, felt her breathing slow and the whirl of her thoughts subside. He continued to work her arms and back, and Jevah sighed. "That has helped," she told him when he showed signs of slowing. "But you need sleep as well."

Skurs dropped beside her, leaving one hand on her shoulder. "Sleep—if you still feel disturbed in the morning, we will talk."

Jevah woke early, and moved quietly out of the bed. Skurs still slept; she thought he had been up late working on the ideas he'd garnered about the project. She sat on the deck staring into the forest, a mug of hot tea disregarded in her hands. The urge to disappear now was stronger than ever; she felt that if she could run into the forest she could wipe out all her memories, her mistakes, even the slight imprint she might have left on others. Her rational mind knew better; by running away, she would simply avoid facing what had happened, burying it deeper within herself until it became a festering wound that would eventually turn toxic and destroy her. She must come to terms with this, come to understand herself, and not let this—or any of the other events of the past years—change her into someone she would despise.

She surprised herself then by bursting into tears. It had been some time since she'd cried; she had managed to suppress most of her shame and humiliation for a long time, but now it seemed that the feelings of worthlessness would never stop. After a while, she wound down, running out of energy. Emotions were exhausting, and she was chilled in the early morning coolness. She pulled a forgotten blanket around herself and watched the trees for a time, not thinking about anything but the life there, the cycle of life and death that endured in the forests. There were so many things there besides trees, all of which depended on each other for sustenance and co-existence. She wondered idly if she could find a place where she was needed, depended upon, and where others sustained her, or if she might just be an accessory, a decoration, for this part of her life.

The front door closed, and Jevah turned around. The sun had risen in the sky, the morning mist had burned off, and the day was clear and bright. Her stomach growled, and although last night she'd thought she would never eat again, she was hungry.

Skurs had brought breakfast: fruit juice, sweetbreads and fruit preserves, cheese, meats, and cooked grain; by the time she got inside he had set everything out on a small table by the window. She joined him, and they ate quietly, Jevah staring out the window. She could see that Skurs watched her while appearing to concentrate on his food, and felt herself tensing.

After they finished, Skurs sat her down on the couch and sat beside her. "Now you must tell me what is bothering you," he said. Jevah looked around, feeling suddenly trapped by the walls.

"Not here," she said. "Let's walk."

"I have a better idea," he said. "I would like to spend another day at the hot springs before we leave. I will get the aircar and bring food; pack the things we need to spend the afternoon there."

In fairly short order they were walking up the path to a different set of springs; Jevah noticed that these were closer together, one pool running into another, fed by streams, surrounded by luxuriant growth that provided an illusion of privacy. Skurs led her to a particular pool; he dropped the bundle nearby. "This pool, I have been told, has the luxury of a stream that divides the temperature. It is hotter on one side than the other; comfortable for both a Cardassian and a Bajoran."

He stripped quickly and stepped into the water, then moved around the pool, checking the temperature. "This area," he said as he seated himself on a shelf, "is the warmest. The area there is significantly cooler, because of the incoming stream." Jevah dipped in a toe where he pointed, and found it hot but not painfully so; she dropped her clothes and slipped into the water. The heat did its work, and she found her tension melting away.

"Now," Skurs said, "tell me."

Jevah looked away. "Tell you what?"

"What happened last night. Do you think I did not notice? You went outside to get some air; you were bored but calm. When you returned, you became agitated and upset, and drank a great deal. Then you were sick, and quiet until we returned; you had bad dreams all the night. Clearly something happened."

Jevah shuddered. "I don't know if I can say it."

"You must."

Jevah nodded. This was not a request by someone who held power over her, but a direction for her own well-being. "When I went outside, it was quiet… then someone came out. I thought it was you. He—touched me, he—had me. In a chair, on the porch. It was dark, I couldn't see. I never thought that anyone would—" She closed her eyes. "He told me to wait, and went inside, and then I came back in. When I found you, I saw that you were still working on the filtration system. I realized you could not have been outside with me."

"You are correct; it was not me."

"I don't know who it was. I know he was Cardassian. But—I couldn't see—" She turned away, afraid to look at him.

"Jevah." His voice was like an order; it turned her around. "You thought I had joined you on the porch."

"Yes."

"And you shared yourself with the person you thought was me."

"Yes."

"You were mistaken."

"Yes."

"Why are you upset now?"

"Because I thought you—might be angry, or despise me." _Because I despise myself for being so willing, so unquestioning._

"Why would I?"

"Because I—he—"

"You felt it was betrayal?"

"Yes—at the least. Skurs, you protect me. You keep me safe; you treat me well. If you were to tire of me, if you found someone you preferred, or wanted to be alone, what would happen to me? You said I would join the comfort women—" Her voice spiraled higher, into panic.

"Jevah. Stop."

She sputtered into silence.

"I do not know or understand the mores of Bajor. I do not know what is appropriate for you, or for your people. I can only speak for myself." He shook his head. "Perhaps we should have had this discussion some time ago. But we did not."

"I cannot hold you responsible for actions made under a mistaken belief. I have not in the past, and I do not now. You were sexual with someone you thought was me. It might well have been me, had I not gotten into the filtration system discussion. Someone at that party came to you, was intimate with you. Perhaps they thought you were someone else as well. Until I know who it was and what they were thinking, how can anyone be blamed?"

He paused. "In Cardassian culture, marriage and family are paramount, but before marriage, we are not restricted in our sexual contacts. There was no intended deception on your part, therefore no fault. Nor would there be any if you were Cardassian. We are not betrothed; neither of us are promised to anyone else. You are Bajoran, and a member of a ruled people. In no way, from any perspective, do I find fault with you in this event.

"If you feel harmed by what happened last night, I cannot help that. But if you feel that you have harmed or slighted me, be assured that you have not."

Jevah sighed, then shivered. Tension drained from her, like water sheeting from glass. "I felt—I owe you my loyalty."

Skurs regarded her steadily. "In what way was last night a breach of that loyalty?"

"I was—with someone—not you."

"You did not know. There was no intention on your part to deceive or to harm."

Jevah nodded. "I see that. But I feel—that I have failed, that I am—somehow less. That you might wish me gone."

"That is my determination to make, not yours." He sighed deeply. "Jevah, you are so quiet that I have mostly your actions on which to know you. This had led to misunderstanding. I believed that you were confident enough in yourself that you did not need to talk incessantly, to be surrounded by people. I did not see that your silence comes as much from self-doubt as from enjoyment of solitude."

He moved across the pool to stand directly before her, then knelt to look into her eyes. "You are with me because I wish it," he told her. "I am satisfied with the current situation. If you have needs to be addressed, you must tell me." He shrugged slightly. "Admittedly, you are not in a position to make demands or to walk away, but believe that I will not intentionally harm you."

Jevah stared at him. He was sincere; she read that on his face as if she was feeling his thoughts. Tears welled up in her eyes; she blinked them away. "Thank you," she whispered. She tried to put more words to her thoughts but came up empty. She felt shaky, tremulous—but safe.


	15. Chapter 15

The project had continued on schedule, but the life support system improvements necessitated that the design elements be reworked, causing an extra flurry of meetings and extended hours for the designers. Jevah spent long days assembling and organizing information from the meetings, and more on keeping up with the designers in their changing plans and schematics. The vacation had ended with no further unsettling incidents, and the rest period had accomplished its purpose. Jevah found herself able to focus better and for longer periods of time, and felt that her working efficiency had also improved; her efforts to keep up with the workload seemed to be better than before.

To her chagrin, she occasionally encountered the Prefect in the passageways of the station, as the project team's work area was closer to the Operations center, and he almost always acknowledged her with at least a nod. Occasionally he stopped and exchanged greetings with her, asking about her well-being or making casual conversation. Jevah was highly uncomfortable with even this slight attention from the most powerful Cardassian on Bajor, but tried not to show it.

Skurs did not seem alarmed; he was busy with the design changes, but Jevah noticed that he seemed to be making time on a daily basis to check on her, to share a short conversation or a quiet meal. Jevah was warmed by his attention; she wondered if he actually had concern for her aside from her convenience as a worker and bed partner. She did not, however, have much time to think about it; the project allowed them little leisure time. Most meals were eaten in the project's work room; they generally worked late, and left only to bathe and sleep.

After several weeks of work at this level, Jevah was exhausted, but the designers and engineers had finally announced that the designs were complete; they could return to a normal schedule and move forward. The first of the self-replicating equipment was being delivered to the moon soon; once that was set up and quarters built, the builders and engineers could begin the actual work of tunneling out the space planned for the mining station. Jevah and Skurs walked back to his rooms for a meal, for the first time since they returned to the station.

"I feel like I should be working, or going straight to sleep," Jevah commented as they entered the room.

Skurs sighed behind her. "As do I," he agreed. "I can hardly think of anything but the resource allocation, personnel planning, equipment delivery. If it's not on the project, it doesn't exist."

Jevah showered, and changed into a lightweight tunic. She had been able to wear "normal" clothing as a member of the project team, as opposed to the uniform style worn by the workers in the lower levels; it was a comfortable difference. While she was still watched carefully as a Bajoran in Cardassian areas, she was less conspicuous in clothing of her own choosing. She dropped onto one of the chairs, stared out at the stars. It seemed like months since she'd had time to look out the viewport, and her eyes did not want to focus on the distance. She gave up, and ordered a simple meal from the replicator, setting it on the small table. She was not really hungry, but she knew how she would feel the next day if she didn't eat. Hunger was no longer a constant, but she remembered it well enough.

After they had eaten, Skurs drifted to his console but stopped before he sat down. "No," he said, "it has been too long since I have had time for anything but the project." He grabbed glasses, poured kanar, and stretched out on the couch, handing one glass to Jevah, who sat in the chair nearby. "No business tonight," he warned, "no reports, no inventory requests, no resource allocations. No shipping schedules, no materials lists, no status reports."

"No database updates," Jevah agreed, "no progress reports, no file distribution, no validation requirements." She sipped at the kanar, and realized with a slight surprise that she had acquired a taste for the stuff.

Skurs snorted. "What is left? It's all we've done for tendays now." He stretched, shifted. "I _can_ think of one thing we have not had time for." He looked at Jevah sideways.

She struggled to keep a smile from her face. "Sleep?" she asked innocently.

He smiled wryly. "Come over here."

Jevah laughed and drained her glass. Skurs made room on the couch and Jevah stretched out along his side, against the cushions. He moved one arm to circle her shoulders, settling it under her arm and resting a warm hand on her breast. They did not move for some time, and Jevah had started to drift into sleep when the com signal sounded. Skurs did not move, and Jevah had to sit up to get his attention; he leapt from the couch and touched the response panel.

A garbled message in Cardassian sounded; Jevah could still barely understand any of the language. Skurs answered, and turned toward the bedroom. "The Prefect wants a meeting; he has received information that requires an immediate response for Central Command."

"Why not Dremek?" Jevah asked. "He has the best overall picture."

"I don't know." Skurs' reply was muffled; he was pulling off his casual clothing and assembling a uniform. "Change your clothing; you are to attend as well." He hesitated a moment, shifting more clothing. "Don't ask why- I have no more idea than you."

Jevah pulled on one of her nicer tunics and boots; she tied her hair back. They were signaling at the Prefect's office shortly; the room appeared empty. The Gamma-shift operations supervisor checked his console and told them to report to the Prefect's quarters; Jevah wondered if it were an impromptu meeting that had raised more questions than they could answer. The door opened in response to their signal; Cardassians filled every available chair. The Prefect beckoned from the end of the table; Skurs approached with a padd in hand while Jevah lingered in a corner. She could barely hear the subject being discussed at the table over the general din of conversation in the room; most everyone was discussing the colonization project.

From the far side of the room, she saw Naprem in a corner; Naprem caught her eye and beckoned her toward one of the doors that had always been closed before. Jevah made her way through the room and joined her. "What is all this?" she asked.

Naprem shrugged one bare shoulder. "I don't know. Some report came in, and suddenly everyone was in here, talking about it." She turned, caught Jevah's hand. "Come in here."

 _Here_ turned out to be a large sleeping room, with a big bed, another desk, a sitting area, and walls lined with panels and shelves. Naprem had ordered drinks from the replicator before going inside; she settled them in two comfortable chairs near the viewport. "I have not seen you for some time; there have been a few gatherings recently and I noticed your absence."

"I have been assigned to the mining colony project," Jevah explained, "and we had to rework part of the life support design in a short time. This is the first evening I have not had to work in tendays."

"You must be exhausted!" Naprem exclaimed. Jevah sipped at her tea and nodded wryly.

"Yes, exactly. I am not sure why I am here; I don't have anything to contribute out there except perhaps where certain files are located or when the records database was updated last."

"I had mentioned to Dukat that it had been a long time since I'd seen you. It was his idea to bring you along when whatever"—she waved an airy hand—"happened out there. So we could have a few minutes to talk." She sipped her tea. "He mentioned that he saw you and Skurs while planetside."

"Yes, we did see him," Jevah admitted, wondering how delicately she might tread around this subject. "I had not expected to run into anyone I knew there."

"Dukat likes that place," Naprem told her, "although I find it boring. He occasionally has meetings and intensive planning sessions there. Fewer distractions, he says, although I know he has found the occasional—distraction." She smiled. "He finds many such, but he always comes back to me."

Jevah glanced out the viewport, struggling for words.

"You need not pretend," Naprem told her. "I know he spent that time with a woman. But Dukat likes women, many women. He enjoys the variety. But he is in love with me." She smiled. "I do not worry that he spends time with others, so long as I hold his heart."

"I don't know what to say," Jevah confessed. She looked at Naprem closely; she could see no signs of worry or jealousy in the other woman.

"There is nothing you need say. I mention it because I know you had been there, and I know you had met the person he spent that time with. There is no need to pretend; it does not make me insecure and I don't want you to be uncomfortable or worried about avoiding the subject."

"It was an interesting time," Jevah said, and decided not to mention any of her own experiences to Naprem. It was not something she wanted discussed, particularly not in the Prefect's circle. "I very much liked the hot springs, and having a fire in the night air."

"I do miss that on the station," Naprem confided. "The air here always seems slightly stale, no matter how often they clean the filters. And the temperature never changes." She smiled. "Of course, the shopping here is dismal."

Jevah laughed. "There was not much more there; and what you could see was very expensive."

Naprem cocked an eyebrow. "From what I hear, that might not be such an issue for you soon."

"I don't understand."

"I have heard that Skurs is to be promoted again—to Dalin." She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I was not supposed to mention it!"

"I can keep a secret," Jevah assured her.

Naprem took a deep breath, as if to launch into a new subject, but stopped when the door slid aside. Dukat stepped into the room, a padd in one hand, kanar in the other. "We are finished," he announced, "come join us."

Naprem and Jevah walked into the main room. The entry was bottlenecked with people continuing conversations and trying to leave; only a few people remained in chairs in the room, and those appeared to be gathering their possessions. Naprem immediately started to straighten the cushions, gather sticky glasses, and put things away; Jevah moved to help. In a few minutes, the room had emptied, they had returned the space to its normal neatness, and she and Naprem settled on the couch with mugs of tea. Skurs and Dukat were in his office, speaking intently, but they were quiet enough that no hint of the subject matter escaped. "That happens all too often," Naprem commented. "Spontaneous meetings when accidents happen, mostly, but it seems as though my home is being taken over by business discussions, again and again."

"That must be inevitable where the Prefect is concerned," Jevah agreed. "There is a great deal he has to know."

"True," Naprem concluded, "but it would be nice if the meetings could be held elsewhere. I feel unwelcome here when that happens."

"Perhaps," Jevah suggested drolly, "we should have our own meetings, to coincide with these. We could gather everyone who wasn't required here and have our own party."

Naprem laughed. "I love the idea, but I rather doubt we could manage it," she said, sipping her tea. Dukat and Skurs moved out of the office then, and took comfortable chairs at either end of the couch. They had glasses, filled with the inevitable kanar, and looked relaxed, as if the reason for the meeting had been resolved to everyone's satisfaction.

"Not exactly a party," the Prefect noted, tipping his glass at the empty room.

"It is just as well," Naprem told him sternly; "it did not look like anyone was having any fun at all."

Dukat laughed. "No, certainly not, but we solved certain problems."

"What happened?" Jevah asked.

"A bomb was found on one of the replicator ships heading to the mining colony site," Skurs explained. "We have implemented more extensive security procedures for shipments there."

Jevah nodded, hiding her sudden chill. _This must have been a Resistance operation. Was it a target because of the information I supplied?_ She pushed the thought away and sipped at her tea. It would not matter; the attempt had failed. She could not afford to distract herself with those thoughts, not right now.

"Next time you must have a meeting," Naprem said, "give me some warning and I will find someone with whom to spend the time."

"It worked well enough this time," Dukat said mildly.

"True," she conceded. "But Skurs might not be needed at the next one."

"Call Jevah anyway," Dukat responded. "She is not so far away that you can't spend some time visiting."

Naprem nodded decisively. "I shall do that," she decided, "and perhaps invite a few others as well, especially if it seems the meeting will go long." She grinned. "It would be nice to have a gathering just for the women."

"I can well imagine the confidences that would be discussed there!" Dukat exclaimed. He was expansive and relaxed, Jevah noticed, and that edge of ambition she had frequently observed in him was almost absent.

Naprem laughed. "I doubt you could even imagine the things we might discuss!"

"I do not want to consider it," Skurs announced. "I would be afraid to ever meet anyone after knowing they had been to such a gathering."

"All your secrets will be revealed," Jevah said in a low, dramatic voice. He laughed, and Jevah realized that it was only the second time she could remember hearing him so amused.

Naprem giggled, and scooted next to Jevah on the big couch. "I don't want to wait for the next time; tell me everything now." Jevah leaned over and pretended to whisper in her ear, and Naprem appeared to be shocked, then giggled again and returned to her seat. Jevah assumed a pose of innocence, and glanced at Skurs, who winked at her.

Dukat stood, and collected empty glasses from Jevah and Skurs. "It is late," he said, "and I for one have a few things yet to finish before the end of the night."

Skurs stood, and Jevah joined him near the door. "We too have things to accomplish," he said, "but this was a relaxing time."

"It was indeed," Dukat said, "perhaps we shall do it again—without the necessity of discovering a bomb."

"There was our social time with the Prefect," Jevah commented as they walked the gently curving corridors to Skurs' rooms, "and it was not as bad as I had feared when we were on Bajor."

"No, it wasn't," Skurs agreed, "but I don't understand why he would spend social time with me or you. There are many people on the station who are closer to his own rank, his own class, his background."

Jevah considered. "Maybe it's because you are not so anxious to gain rank that you do anything and everything; your loyalties do not change. You do your work, and do it well, but you do not play the political games that others seem to live by." She shrugged. "It makes you someone who is not a threat politically; maybe that's why he seems to relax."

Skurs was silent for several minutes as they walked. "I've never had the goal or desire to rise to high rank and power."

"The Prefect is astute," Jevah said. "He has to be very aware of what goes on around him, not just events but the maneuverings of others for power and position. Surely if he is that perceptive, he sees that you are not part of that."

They entered Skurs' room and moved toward the viewport, leaving the lights lowered. Skurs stood behind Jevah, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "It is also true that Naprem seems to enjoy your company, and that makes a difference to Dukat. He cares very much about her."

"I like her," she acknowledged. "I have not had the chance to make female friends here, since being assigned to the project." She shrugged. "I still feel uncomfortable being so much around the Prefect."

"It will pass, with time," Skurs said quietly, "as have other discomforts." Jevah could see his eyes reflected in the viewport; his gaze was fixed on the distant stars.


	16. Chapter 16

More reports of sabotage and bomb attempts surfaced over the next several weeks; the mining project schedule was revised to reflect the delay of extended security inspections. The ships had delivered the self-replicating equipment and the initial plans were finally falling into place. Quarters had been hollowed out and stocked for the engineers and builders who would oversee construction; the machinery had been reformulated to work on the extensive network of tunnels and caverns that would house the workers, the life support equipment, and the communications machinery required for the mine's initial setup.

Jevah saw a change in the tone of the planning and delivery meetings; military security specialists had been added to the project and now attended all gatherings, contributing critiques and analysis of the plans from a security perspective. Schedules and implementation plans changed to accommodate a higher level of security; it was openly acknowledged that the project had become a major target for the Resistance. To Dremek's obvious frustration, the security specialists had been given veto power over his decisions.

Jevah kept up with the support work, but maintained a low profile. As the only Bajoran working on the project, she worried about becoming the target of Dremek's frustration. She had seen in the past when an angry Cardassian, unable to punish the real source of his frustration, took out his fury on whatever Bajoran was nearest. She knew herself well enough to know that she did not respond well to anger; she concentrated on being quiet and accommodating in the project room.

Skurs had not seemed to notice or had not reacted; perhaps the volatile nature of the project manager's personality was common for Cardassians, and he had inherent methods for managing it without becoming involved. Jevah wondered if that volatility was so common for Cardassians that Skurs must be considered an aberration; she discarded that idea shortly after thinking it. The Cardassians were as varied in type and personality as Bajorans, although there was certainly an aspect of ambition and manipulation on the station. She finally decided to attribute it to the structure of the military governance and the occupation in general; there were reputations to be made here, power to be gained, influence to be used. Anyone who was not at least participating in those struggles could fall victim to them, if they were not considered part of an existing faction.

She mused on Skurs' position here. He was not striving for power or influence; he had shown that he supported the Prefect, so he was seen as part of Dukat's bloc. As an outsider, Jevah could not see into the political structure; her only role was either as a pawn in the machinations between groups, or as a useless neutral. _Either role leaves me vulnerable to manipulation or destruction._ While not understanding it, she could appreciate the stress the maneuvering could bring to the authority system; she wondered whether this was something the Resistance could use, whether they could subtly encourage the factions to destroy themselves from within.

Skurs kept his thoughts to himself, but she could see that he reacted differently to individuals associated with different groups. She wondered if he even knew he was doing it; he was comfortable around those who supported Dukat and slightly formal around those he perhaps identified as "other."

As a long-time student of individualistic nature, Jevah wanted to discuss these things with someone, but other than Naprem and some of her friends, there was really no-one else, and she knew better than to bring up something like this with the Prefect's lover.

One night not long after the security procedures had been upgraded, Skurs mentioned that he needed some data stored in the project room and left. Jevah hardly noticed; it was something he occasionally did on the evenings he spent at his console. This time, however, he returned far more quickly than usual; his face was grim and angry.

"What is it?" she asked as he poured kanar, splashing the liquid over the edge of the glass.

"The security specialist, Bendet. He was at my console. I watched him for a few minutes, and then he went to your station and started looking at the data rods in the documentation library."

Jevah froze for a minute, then forced herself to breathe. "He has probably gone through everyone's files. He's naturally paranoid, I think."

Skurs took a substantial drink of kanar and sat down. "I suspect you are right. It infuriates me that he prowls through my work, through the files."

"I suppose that as a Bajoran I am at the top of any list of people he might find suspicious," she said, trying to sound casual.

"You do have access to the project data," Skurs acknowledged, "but you have virtually no opportunity to pass that data to anyone."

Jevah was silent; whatever speculations she made now could raise questions. She would rather, for the moment, be thought unimaginative. She stood and picked up the bottle of kanar, brought it to where Skurs had nearly emptied his glass. "You work too hard," she said, filled his glass again, and settled beside him.

"Life is work," he replied, staring at nothing.

"Life is supported by work," she corrected, "but work should not become life."

He snorted. "In the military, work is everything. Identity, social position, rank—all are associated with work and occupation."

"Don't you ever have any relaxation or fun?" she asked. "Aside from the occasional visit to rustic lakeside resorts?"

"Cardassia, the Empire, is everything. We as citizens owe our first duty to the Empire. And most people find the fulfillment they need in supporting the state and raising the next generation to do the same."

"That makes you sound like automatons, but I know you are not."

Skurs sighed deeply. "I don't know where other people find their satisfactions. I find satisfaction in my duty, my work, my status—not my rank, but my membership as part of the group accomplishing the will of Central Command."

Jevah felt an overwhelming sadness, then. _How empty their lives must be, these Cardassians!_ _How limited their outlook._ "What about knowledge, the joy of learning? What about creativity? Is there nothing that ignites your imagination, that draws you?"

"It is mostly women in our society who pursue the arts, the sciences. For the men, particularly those I know, duty becomes the force that drives us."

"Maybe that's why there are so many who lust for power and position within the hierarchy of duty."

He shrugged, finished his drink, and beckoned for more. "Perhaps. It does little good to think of it. Our lives are shaped from childhood, and most of us do our best to follow the paths laid down for us."

He seemed to think about it for several minutes. "It's another reason why Bajor seems so backward to us. Your people have no discipline; you change from job to job, from mate to mate, from town to town. You fight, you argue, you discuss things endlessly. Your society has no goal, no direction."

"One might have said that, before the Occupation," Jevah agreed. "Our goal now is survival. But even if what you say was true, it's just a sign of a different philosophy of life, not a sign of inferiority. We would allow the individual to decide what is best for themselves, not society to decide for the individual. Decisions that affect a society are made by the society, or by the rulers the society has chosen."

"The individual must serve the will of the Empire!" Skurs insisted.

"Let Cardassians serve their Empire, then. But allow Bajorans to choose their own way."

"Even if I could agree with you, you know it cannot happen," Skurs told her.

"I will not give up hoping."

"True enough. Without a future to look toward, what is life?"

"Finally," Jevah laughed, "something we can agree upon."

Skurs finished another glass of kanar and put his glass down, pulling Jevah onto his lap. "There are other things on which we can agree," he breathed into her hair.

Bendet was sitting at Jevah's console the next morning, a carton of data rods from the project library beside him. Dremek, the project manager, stood next to him, a scowl darkening his face. "I don't care if you have to go through the files," he was saying with barely repressed frustration, "but find a different console. There is work to be done here, and this is the only station available for this worker."

Bendet looked up blandly. "I need to see the files on the console where they originated," he said evenly.

Jevah spoke up. "Most of the files did not originate on this console; they were brought here for organization or update."

Bendet looked her over like he might an insect stuck to his shoe. "Be silent. We will talk soon enough." He glanced at Dremek. "Get her another console if you need her work so badly."

Dremek turned away, obviously furious. He looked around the room; the other members of the project team had busied themselves elsewhere or were in conference. His jaw bunched repeatedly. "Use that console," he said, pointing toward an empty station. "I will assign someone to work in their quarters and you can use their terminal until this is resolved." He stomped to the door, shoulders tight, and disappeared down the corridor.

Jevah castigated herself while settling at the console. _You got used to being treated like just a worker,_ she told herself, _and you forgot your position here. Now that arrogant bastard Bendet is going to be everywhere._ Skurs had watched the interaction from his console; he had not moved. Jevah understood; in this room, on this project, the fact that she slept with him meant nothing. He would have no ability to influence her treatment, could offer no protection. He might stand between her and other Cardassians who would want to use her sexually; he could not and would not interfere if she fell under any suspicion at all. _He would consider it betrayal,_ she mused, _even without evidence—wait, most Cardassians don't_ _ **need**_ _evidence, just suspicion. Evidence doesn't mean anything to them. If they decide I am guilty, they will manufacture the evidence._

She had been careful with the data transfer. The data rod she had passed to the Resistance agent planetside had not been in the project's inventory; she had managed to pull a blank from a random box when getting supplies for the project from the storage area. She'd been accompanied by a guard, of course, but he had stood by the door while she gathered supplies. She'd noted the carton number in her memory and made a point of avoiding that one on later supply runs.

She'd filled the data rod with files of useless trivia: inventory of furnishings, directions for making soup, instructions for the cleaning equipment. She'd hidden the data in misnamed files that looked like all the rest, and would show something similar if opened by someone who didn't know what they were looking for. And she'd cleared every record and log entry on her console, as well as working on the files irregularly, in small blocks of time that were easily concealed. She knew that if someone were specifically looking for what she had done, they would find it, but if they were looking for irregularities, she believed they would find nothing of note.

Jevah used the designated workstation for the next several days while Bendet scoured through her console's memory; he finally moved on to reviewing the senior engineer's work without speaking further to Jevah. When she saw that he had apparently finished, she was deeply relieved; she had agonized over the thought of interrogation. Everyone had heard tales; nearly everyone knew someone who had lost a family member or friend to Cardassian questioning.

A few days later she was in the project room with most of the rest of the team, awaiting the return of Dremek and the senior engineer from a site inspection, when a man she recognized as one of the Prefect's staffers came into the room. "The ship carrying the site team has been disabled by an explosion," he announced. "A ship is being diverted for rescue and repair, but we do not know whether they will be in time." He almost growled, now. "The identification of those who placed the bomb, as well as the bomb that nearly destroyed the replicator ship, is close. We expect to be holding trials and executions in the next few days."

Jevah froze. They could not mean her; she'd had nothing to do with the bombs themselves. Nevertheless, she found she was shaking; she knew that she would not withstand interrogation. _The only fortunate thing_ , she told herself, _is that I know no names, only faces_. She bent to her console, hiding her face, afraid her fear would be broadcast to all. She could not have said what she did the rest of the day, or whether she worked at all, but she apparently dissembled well enough that she was not questioned. Just as the team members were leaving for the day, word came that those aboard the ship had been rescued and were safe.

In Skurs' rooms, Jevah poured herself a glass of kanar, and only after drinking half of it did she think to find a glass for Skurs. He was staring out the viewport, and with a start Jevah realized that she could see him clearly in the window; he could easily have been watching her as well. She pressed a glass into his hand and moved away, toward the 'fresher and a shower, hoping to take the time to settle her emotions.

"Jevah."

She started, and spilled part of her drink.

"Why are you so tense?"

"The ship—"

"We already know it is safe, they are safe. What is it that bothers you?"

She drank the remainder of the liquid in her glass, hoping to hide the fact that she was shaking again, and leaned against the bulkhead, trying to look casual. "I–started thinking about the executions."

Skurs did not move, did not turn away from the viewport. "There will undoubtedly be many executions."

"I have heard that Cardassian justice is less about finding the true culprits and more about setting an example for anyone who might be tempted to similar actions."

"There is some truth to that," Skurs admitted. "But you will never hear it acknowledged."

"It made me realize that they could pick anyone to serve as the object lesson, and I started wondering how many innocent people had been executed over the years… and whether I might be one of them this time."

Now he turned around to face her. "I do not believe you have any reason to fear."

"But Bendet was just going through my console, through the files and my work." She pushed herself away from the wall and started to pace.

"He is going through everyone's work, everyone's station. Perhaps he started with yours because you are Bajoran, or because you are at one end of the room. But he has not come back to you, not asked others about you, and not brought you in for interrogation."

"But if they can't find someone easily, they might decide—"

"Jevah. Stop this. You are reacting to something that has not happened, that is not likely to happen."

"I can't—sometimes I just start thinking and I can't change where my thoughts go."

"You must find a way to change your thought processes. You cannot do this to yourself every time something happens." Skurs put his glass down, and took hers from her trembling hand. He walked her to the viewport, turned her toward the stars, and wrapped his arms around her. "Look out there. Stop thinking about what is happening here, what might happen, what won't happen, and just look."

Jevah took a shaky breath and focused on the distant stars, trying to reach for patterns she had seen before, for shapes from her imagination, like watching clouds on a spring day.

"What do you see?"

"Lights," she answered. "Suns. Worlds whirling around them, people living their lives." She took another shuddering breath, and another. "The size… it makes me feel so insignificant." She laughed shakily. "Like my problems are nothing in this universe."

"Everyone out there, everyone you might see, all those you will never see, never even begin to consider, every single person there has a life that give them fear or pleasure or joy or pain. They live it, they go on into the next moment, and the next."

Jevah felt herself relaxing, her flaring fear calming.

"Every one of them continues, day by day. Some give up, some turn away, but most of those uncountable people keep going, finding something new in the next moment or the next day." He tightened his arms around her. "You cannot live in fear. You cannot let fear control your life."

She turned away from the viewport and pressed her forehead into Skurs' chest, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist. "Yes. You're right." She forced down a shudder. "I just get caught in this… whirlwind of thoughts that circle around, and sometimes I just can't break out of it…"

"You need to find a way to break that cycle at the beginning, Jevah. If it goes too far, you might never find a way out."

"You found the way, this time," she told him quietly. She felt emptied, finally, of all fear, of worry, of anything. For now, this felt better, safer.

Skurs brought a hand to her chin and tilted her face up toward his. "Go take a hot shower," he said. "You will feel better."

Jevah came out of the 'fresher, exhausted but somewhat removed from her fear. Skurs had ordered bread and a hearty soup for dinner, and when she tasted the first spoonful, she discovered that her appetite had returned. The soup was comforting, somehow; it warmed her as much as the shower had, as much as the comfort of being held. When she had finished, they moved to the couch, and Jevah settled onto Skurs' lap, a blanket wrapped around her, feeling safe again.

"There _will_ be a trial, Jevah, and executions. But you must remain calm when they happen."

"I will try," she whispered, "I will. Maybe I could—"

"No. No pills, no kanar or wine. You must find the strength within yourself to face this."

Jevah ducked her face into Skurs' chest, afraid of her own fear, her own weakness. "I know. I feel like I have been scared for so long that I don't know anything else."

"You are not always afraid."

"No. When I'm working, concentrating on something, I'm not afraid. When I'm reading, when—when I am here, I am not afraid."

"Think on those things. Find something on which to concentrate, something that you can use as a barrier against that fear."

"Maybe if I meditated—some of the temple exercises—"

"If your religion can bring you some relief from this, do those things." He shifted slightly, and Jevah felt the warm places against her move into new patterns. "You should start practicing those things now. The announcements will be unexpected and you will have little time for preparation." He took a deep breath. "If there are things you need, accoutrements of your religion, they can be obtained."


	17. Chapter 17

Two days after the project members and ship's crew had returned to the station, a communication came, directing various teams and departments to the upper level of the Promenade in the late afternoon. Jevah went with the project team, her feet dragging, Skurs' hand on her arm urging her along. They crowded into the space, and Jevah saw that most of the open areas were lined with guards, who had weapons pointed down into the lower level, where the Bajoran casual workers lived. She could not see them, but guessed that the Bajorans had been gathered as well, as they had been forced to assemble in the past.

She could hear a Cardassian speaking. Skurs whispered "That is Thrax, head of Security on Terok Nor."

"The recent attempts to damage ships and supplies related to several ongoing projects have been halted; the perpetrators have been caught and confessed. These dissidents and criminals will be executed here today, both for their guilt and as an object lesson. Bajorans, this is a warning. Criminal activity will not be tolerated. See the results before you now."

Jevah could not see over the crowd of Cardassians; she could see no other Bajoran in the area. She heard a name called out, and a weapon fired. She put her hands over her ears, trying to shut out the sounds. The crowd on the lower level murmured. Another name followed, another shot. Another. And another.

In total, 17 people were executed. There was another speech; she thought it might have been the Prefect, but her own whirling thoughts blocked her understanding. Finally, it was over; she turned with the rest and moved through the crowded corridors to the project room. Had Skurs not been guiding her, holding her arm, she might have staggered like a drunkard; her own fear and anger were working to overwhelm her. When they reached the work room, Dremek dismissed them all; it was only minutes before shift end. Jevah stayed at her console while the room emptied; she organized her open files and scanned data rods until only Skurs and Dremek remained. They were talking, going over some report, and she put her work away, cleared the records from the console, and sat quietly.

Dremek finally left the room, and Skurs cleared the reports; he turned to her after a few moments. "Are you finished?"

"Yes," she replied, suddenly calm. She slipped out of her chair and joined him at the door; they walked down the passageway toward the habitat areas. The hallway was crowded, noisy; everyone seemed to be discussing the executions. Jevah heard tidbits of conversation, enough to know that she did not want to think about it, did not want to discuss it, did not want to hear the sounds of weapons fire ever again.

"You did well," Skurs said quietly as they approached his door.

"I am not sure how or why," she told him.

"Those executed were members of the crews that cleaned the operations and administrative areas of the station, including the project room," he said.

"Please," Jevah said, "don't say any more." A voice echoed in her head. Nuala, from one of the social gatherings.

 _"I can pass messages to the Resistance." Jevah looked at her, doubtful._

 _"How?" she said quietly._

 _Naula laughed, tapped her glass to Jevah's, and sipped her drink. "Maintenance and cleaning crew," she confided. "Code words. We can get information out."_

She shuddered. Had she done this, had she caused those deaths? Surely not all cleaners were Resistance members; some were undoubtedly innocents.

A hand touched her shoulder; Jevah startled. "Jevah." Skurs stood before her. He had changed into casual clothing while she was thinking, and she'd never noticed his movements. "What are you thinking?"

"The—deaths," she whispered.

"Nothing to do with you," he replied. "Nothing at all. Pour some kanar for us."

Jevah obeyed, bringing the bottle to where Skurs had settled on the couch. She poured his glass, then sat down and filled her own. She touched the glass to her lips but did not drink, staring out the viewport and trying to think of anything but the executions. "Drink it," Skurs said from beside her. "Stop thinking. Just relax, and breathe."

A few days later, an evening meeting was called and Jevah was sent for; she spent several hours with Naprem and Nuala in the Prefect's rooms while the station's senior management was in the conference room. None of them knew the subject of the meeting and had nothing on which to speculate. They played a board game, gossiped idly, and drank autumn wine; Jevah, who knew nothing of the other women on the station, had little to contribute. But by the time the Prefect returned to his rooms, she had realized that she could find friends among these women, Bajorans who would support her and accept her support when she could give it. She tentatively accepted an invitation for board games during the dinner hour the next day; the Cardassian officers generally ate together and then moved to the lounge to meet the Bajoran women after their meal.

When Skurs returned with the Prefect and a Legate Jevah did not know, the six settled into a conversational grouping and sipped wine. The meeting was not discussed; the conversation stayed casual, and the Legate drifted toward Nuala, eventually making it a gathering of couples. The lights dimmed gradually over the few next hours, and Jevah was surprised to realize that she was enjoying herself, enjoying the company, somehow no longer as intimidated by Dukat or the Legate, after having spent time with Naprem and Nuala. When Dukat and Naprem finally ended the gathering, Skurs and the Legate were still talking, and they wandered aimlessly down the hallway, discussing various departments on the station. The Legate, whose name was Lamek, stopped in front of a set of doors in the habitat area. "These are my rooms," he said, "would you care to continue the conversation?" He opened the doors and ushered them inside.

The rooms were not quite as opulent as those of the Prefect, but they were well-appointed, with comfortable furnishings and a well-stocked bar. They settled into chairs, wine glasses filled, and Jevah sipped at hers. It was autumn wine again, strong and sweet, and she could not remember tasting a better drink in all her time there. "That is wonderful," she murmured, and Lamek smiled.

"Yes, I have gone to great effort to find that vintage. It is possibly the best I've found. Please, enjoy it as you like." He pulled Nuala close to him, nuzzled her neck, then filled her glass and draped an arm around her shoulder, his fingers just touching her breast. Jevah looked away, embarrassed, and sipped more of the wine. She was silent as Lamek and Skurs went back to their discussion, and she started to tune into the conversation. They were apparently concerned at the change in tenor of the communications being received from Central Command. There had been demands for increases in production from the planetary mines, a shorter timeframe for the mining and colonization projects, and general dissatisfaction with the losses being caused by the Resistance.

Jevah exchanged glances with Nuala. She knew the other woman would try to get the information to the Resistance members; she also knew that she would be unable to participate with such an operation again. Her nerves were stretched too thin; she didn't think she could function if she were required to pass on more information. She finished her glass and considered another; she didn't want to have so much wine that she couldn't function the next day. Lamek apparently noticed her empty glass and stood. "Let me get you more, Jevah, this is really a fine vintage and should be enjoyed." He took her glass to the bar and replaced it with a clean one, then filled it with wine from a different bottle, a dusty one near the back of the collection. He brought an additional glass for Skurs, which he also filled from a bottle at the bar.

He handed the first glass to Jevah, and smiled jovially. "For such a lovely lady with such good taste in wine, I share my most special bottle," he said. Skurs smiled slightly when he received his glass; Jevah could tell that he had consumed a good deal of his favorite kanar, probably also a very good year. She tasted the wine, and closed her eyes; this was delicious. Worth savoring.

"It's better than anything I've ever tasted," Jevah said, and Lamek beamed again.

"I knew you would enjoy this. Please, drink up; I've several more bottles put away."

Nuala looked glassy-eyed and relaxed; Lamek kissed her and draped his arm over her shoulders again, moving his hand under the front of her dress to knead her breast. Jevah looked away; she turned to Skurs in hopes that he was ready to leave soon. She took a quick breath; he was leaning back on the couch, his eyes closed, an empty glass about to slip from his fingers. His breath made that little rasp of a person just sliding into sleep. Jevah took the glass and placed it on the nearby table, squeezing his hand to wake him, but he did not stir. She sipped her drink, feeling suddenly hollow, and found herself wondering if the air pressure in the room had changed.

She glanced back at the other couch, where Lamek had stripped an unmoving Naula to the waist and was fondling her breasts. He looked up and met her eyes. "This woman," he said quietly, "I can have when I want. You are much more elusive; Skurs keeps you close. I have wondered the reason for it. Perhaps I should try some variety tonight." He seemed to consider it, and smiled. "Finish your drink," he suggested, and Jevah did so, somehow unable to resist the order. "Good," he smiled, "it seems you have had enough to be obedient." He stood, and helped Nuala to her feet. He walked her over to where Skurs was sprawled; he settled Nuala into his lap and pulled her skirt up high around her thighs, then moved one of Skurs' hands to rest between her legs. He regarded the tableau, and smiled again. "Yes, very convincing."

He settled himself back on his couch, and regarded her closely. "Stand up," he said, and Jevah did so, as if being controlled by something outside herself. "Get that tunic off, and come sit with me." Jevah stripped off her tunic, and moved around the room to his side; he pulled her down to sit in his lap. He ran his hands along her shoulder, down her collarbone, and covered her breast. "You are much like any other woman," he said, "I don't understand what it is that he sees in you, to keep you so long. I certainly would have gotten bored by now." He rubbed a nipple between thumb and finger, then leaned down and covered it with his mouth. "You are not so different."

Jevah felt tears trickling down her face; she was completely unable to push Lamek away or resist him in any way. She was panting, panicking, when she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps," Skurs said, " I am too tired to continue a conver sation tonight. I seem to have fallen asleep for a time." He pulled Jevah to her feet, handed her tunic. "Get dressed, Jevah, we are going. Wait for me by the door."

Jevah pulled the tunic over her head shakily; she still had virtually no self-control. She kept her back to Lamek while she adjusted the tunic to cover herself completely, and walked to the door.

"Good night, Legate," Skurs said, his tone reflecting no emotion at all; he opened the door, took Jevah's arm, and stepped into the passageway.

They returned to his quarters without further incident; Jevah was trembling at how close she had come to again being used as proof of someone's power. When the door closed behind them, Skurs pulled her into his arms and held her close.

"I did not believe he would try anything—I didn't think people I work with and respect would behave that way," Skurs said quietly. "I spilled the drink he brought and pretended to sleep; that last drink had a strange flavor to it."

Jevah sobbed. "I don't understand—" She shook her head. "I don't understand why I keep getting this kind of attention. I don't understand why anyone would think I _deserve_ this kind of attention. I am not so special, not here and now, not under any circumstances."

Skurs walked her to the couch and sat down, pulling Jevah with him. "The only thing I can identify as different about you," he said quietly, "is that you have been with me for a long time." He shrugged. "And my rank is relatively low."

He looked at her, brushed tears from her cheeks. "I see no reason for a change in the situation; I am not so enamored by variety as some of the others seem to be." He shifted uneasily on the couch. "It is a little thing, on which to base such value."

Jevah shivered. Questions she did not want to consider circled in her mind. "I wish I understood the kind of thinking that wants variety simply for the sake of variety. Change is good, it's part of life. But some things remain constant…"

She sat up, struggling for a distraction for her own thoughts. "Skurs, what do your people do on Cardassia? What happens when you marry and stay with a single person for the rest of your life?" She looked out the viewport. "Or is it just an idea that your people claim to hold to, but ignore in personal life? You have mentioned that some Cardassians have mistresses, lovers, even though they are married and have families."

She stood up, paced. "Is this just the underbelly of those morals your society claims to have? People acting as they please, where nobody sees them?"

"Perhaps it is," Skurs acknowledged, "in which case it may be that all our moral superiority is a sham."

Jevah turned away from the viewport and looked at him. He was holding a glass, staring into the liquid swirling around inside it. "I will have to think on this. Perhaps this is a contradiction that has been ignored for so long that it has become invisible." He drank down the kanar in a single swallow, and placed the glass on a table. Very deliberately, he corked the bottle of kanar and put it aside. "What other lies are hidden in plain sight in our culture?"

Jevah was seized with a sudden anger. _How is this suddenly about him?_ She shook herself; she did not have the luxury here of standing up for herself. "And how do those lies affect the people caught up in them?"

Skurs straightened, looked at her intensely. "I have not forgotten that you were nearly a victim of this," he said quietly, "and that you have been a victim before. I cannot help that, cannot change that." He looked away. "But I cannot feel what you have felt. I can only observe and learn from what I see."

Jevah nodded. "I know." She turned back to the viewport. "I just feel so—helpless. My existence can change at the whim of others, and I have no control over any aspect of my life."

Skurs leaned his elbows on his knees, and stared at the carpet. "We are all victim to the whims of others in many aspects; your life is much more susceptible to those whims. There is only so much I can do to alleviate that, especially when I cannot trust those around me to not exercise those whims." He stood up and walked to the viewport, stood behind her. His hands were warm on her arms, and solid. "Jevah, we cannot stop living because others have such abilities. We have to learn from the experiences, and we now know that Lamek cannot be trusted in social situations." He rested his chin on her head. "Perhaps he cannot be trusted at all; that is yet to be determined.

"We know, however, that we can trust each other for such things, do we not?"

Jevah leaned back against him, and pulled on his hands until his arms wrapped around her. "I have trusted you," she said quietly, "and you have never harmed me."

Skurs tightened his arms around her. "Nor have you done me any harm," he admitted, "and you have done much to make this existence more pleasant."

"What do we do?" Jevah asked.

"There is nothing we can actively do," Skurs admitted. "We can move slowly, identify over time those who can be trusted, and avoid the others."

"That makes us sound so—paranoid," Jevah suggested.

"If our priority is to maintain our well-being, in an environment that we cannot trust, perhaps we must be somewhat paranoid." He walked her back to the couch. "We have seemed to establish that the Prefect and his lady can be trusted. Dukat has looked out for you at least once; Naprem is not powerful but she has done what she can as well."

He pulled Jevah to him again. "This is not an organization to which we can bring people, Jevah."

"I am not stupid," she reminded him. "I know this is about keeping ourselves as safe as we can here. It's not a social club."

Skurs smiled slightly. "You are indeed not stupid. Do you think that sex is the only reason I keep you here?"

Jevah ducked her head. "I don't really _know_ why you keep me here," she admitted.

"Maybe you are not as bright as I thought you were," Skurs said darkly, teasing.

Jevah laughed. Skurs pulled her close and kissed her. "Let me show you why you are still here."


	18. Chapter 18

Security was on maximum alert; any movement through the station by Bajorans was regarded with suspicion. Even though Jevah had lived on the station for over a year, working in only one of two locations, even though she was known to be Skurs' bedmate, she was regarded with suspicion by the soldiers stationed about the hallways and at critical intersections. Even when accompanied by Skurs, she was searched, questioned, and watched.

An alarm blared; Jevah had not heard that particular klaxon since leaving the life support center. It was a ventilation alert; Dremek ran for the environmental locker near the door and grabbed air masks. Everyone in the room slapped them on and started moving toward the door when a brown cloud seemed to pour from the ventilation ducts. This was not smoke, however, but seemed to move of its own accord; when the mass got closer, Jevah realized with a shudder that it was a swarm of insects. She pulled her sleeves down over her hands and clasped the fabric closed, sank to the floor and covered her head as best she could.

Many of the Cardassians followed suit; two of them ran into the corridor, where the swarm followed their movement and boiled into the passageway. Jevah heard panicked shouts and gasps, disruptor fire, and pounding footsteps as the beleaguered Cardassians tried to escape the stinging insects; she could have warned them that this was the worst thing they could do. Screams echoed along the metal passageways for a long time. Jevah put her head down and wept.

The alarms continued for an hour or more; everyone stayed on the floor until the ventilation system was flushed and filtered and the all-clear signal sounded.

The tension in the room slowly calmed; one or two people had been stung, but those who had remained in the room were unharmed overall. Dremek had ventured down the hallways and reported several bodies lying in the corridor; their exposed skin was puffed up and purpled. One of the bodies he had seen was dead; the survivor had been moved to the infirmary.

"I think those were bix-beetles," Jevah said into a break into the conversation. "I've heard about them, and that swarm reacted like I'd been told."

"Where do they come from?" Dremek demanded. He was furious, both because of the lost time and the inability to fight such a foe, and he was pacing the room while the others stood around, watching, listening.

"The mountainous regions, mostly," Jevah told him. "Or so I think; I have only heard of them from others."

"How did they get here?!" Dremek snarled. Jevah shrugged. "Maybe someone brought some eggs to the station and released them when the swarm matured."

"Back to work!" Dremek barked, and everyone turned to their consoles.

Jevah heard later from Skurs that the Prefect had called a meeting of department heads; security searches were being conducted throughout the station. Bajoran sectors were searched first, and anyone deemed suspicious was jailed for later interrogation.

"Another social dinner," Skurs told Jevah. "Do you need additional clothing?"

Jevah shrugged. "I can wear something I've worn before; I don't see the point in having something new every time we have to be on display." She turned from the viewport to face him at the console. "When is this one?"

"Two days."

"I will try to control my excitement until then."

The dining room was decorated elegantly; flowers and candles and bright glasses of wine caught eyes and sparkled in the lowered light. Jevah noticed almost immediately, however, that there was very little gaiety; the conversations were tense and quiet. The Cardassians stood in small clusters and argued; gestures were sharp and emphatic. The Bajorans gathered away from them, talking quietly, avoiding attention.

The usual technical crowd that Skurs tended to join was quiet as well; Jevah joined the other Bajorans when Skurs was drawn into the conversation. This group was not as upset or animated as the other Cardassians; they were arguing over the differences between various programs that ran the ore processing system. Jevah smiled to herself; the engineers were easily distracted into their technical issues. She wondered sometimes if they would be arguing over ion flows even if they were on fire themselves.

Nuala hugged Jevah as she came into the group, and smiled tentatively. Jevah wondered if she had any recollection of the night in Lamek's room, but decided to avoid the topic; Nuala must have felt as embarrassed as she did that night. "They are all very upset," she said quietly, "and we are just keeping a low profile to avoid angry outbursts."

Jevah smiled gently. "I think we are safe enough here," she said, "but I have concerns about those women partnered with the military and administrative staff."

Nuala nodded. "There have been a number of assaults among the women," she said, "broken ribs, cuts and bruises. I think the some of the officers are taking out their frustration on us."

"I was afraid they would," she said sadly. "For many of the Cardassians on this station, the Bajoran women here are their only contact with our people as individuals. The rest they see as workers, resources, no more than livestock to be herded or managed.

Nuala nodded agreement, turning the glass of wine in her hand, around and around. "I think sometimes that they could see us, if they tried. Some of them are kind, even thoughtful. But most of them are so assured of their superiority that they can't see beyond it." She glanced around as if to check for listeners. "They are furious at the vandalisms and sabotage; they don't want to believe Bajorans are smart enough to do these things, but there is no-one else they can blame."

Jevah shivered. "I think things are going to get worse before they get better," she whispered. "And I can't even imagine what that will look like."

Dinner was muted; the wine and food added an air of celebration, but Jevah suspected that most of the joviality she saw was a façade, a mask meant to conceal the real fury and uncertainty the Cardassians were feeling. The Prefect, at the head of the table, was not his usual urbane self; he drank glass after glass of kanar and scowled at those around him. Naprem was quiet and still beside him; she looked up only occasionally, and Jevah caught a glimpse of red-rimmed eyes.

After dinner, in the lounge, Jevah asked Skurs to maneuver them toward the Prefect. She had a few minutes with Naprem, who was standing beside Dukat, looking wan and pale. Jevah pulled her away, and hugged her. "Naprem, what is wrong?" she asked.

Naprem's eyes filled with tears. "I can't—come see me tomorrow. I will tell you then." She shook her head violently. "I can't think about it right now."

Jevah squeezed her hand, then stepped away. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The lounge, like the dining room, was strangely different. The Cardassians again gathered in conversational groups, the Bajorans stood nearby with evident tension, waiting for attention to turn to them. Skurs had settled into a chair near the viewport with Jevah perched on the arm; he seemed content this night to avoid the conversations and watch from a distance. He was sipping his drink and watching the room; Jevah held a glass of autumn wine but was not interested in it; she was also watching the room, and Skurs' reaction to it.

"Well," a hearty voice said from behind them, "if you're not going to keep this girl company, you might let me try to entertain her."

Jevah and Skurs both turned around; the Cardassian behind them was tall, with a moderate paunch and a big smile on his face. He laughed at them, then sat in a nearby chair and scooted it closer. "It's supposed to be a party," he reminded them, and laughed again.

Skurs smiled, saluted with his glass. "We are here, at the party," he commented. "There are no rules about our demeanors."

"Yes, well," the Legate said, "it appears that everyone is in a mood tonight." He gulped from his glass; Jevah could smell the kanar from several feet away. "It's all this vandalism, I suppose," he continued. "It has people on edge." He turned toward Jevah, and examined her closely. "I haven't seen you before," he said. "What is your name?"

Jevah ducked her head, and said her name quietly.

Skurs looked squarely at the Legate. "She is not one of the women brought here for the officers," he said firmly. "She is a support analyst on the mining colony team… and my …" he struggled for a word. "Mistress," he finally said.

The Legate laughed, and shook a finger at Skurs. "Yes," he said, "I've heard about a junior officer who spirited a technical worker away to his room for a night and kept her there." He made a slight bow toward Jevah from his chair. "I am pleased to meet you. I am Legate Gallath."

Jevah nodded her head at him; she was seized with fear, and was suddenly afraid to move. Skurs seemed to sense her distress; he took her hand and held it, still facing the Legate. "She is not available," he said finally.

Gallath held out his hands, as if blocking. "No, no, I understand. I was not attempting to take her from you, merely opening a conversation."

Skurs seemed to relax slightly; Jevah remained tensed on the arm of the overstuffed chair. "What do you suggest as a topic?"

Gallath shrugged. "The only conversation lately is the sabotage and vandalism; the searches for the criminals who caused it, and the demands from Cardassia regarding resources. There is nothing else."

Skurs gestured with his wine glass to the room at large. "What can I contribute that has not already been said by others?"

Gallath nodded, emptying his glass, and looking around for someone with a bottle. He flagged down a young woman who wandered the room with a tall, twisty bottle full of kanar, and filled his glass, but he did not invite her to linger. "I suspect," he said, "that Central Command is losing interest in Bajor as a holding or colony. Their attention is elsewhere; there is a movement to turn inward, to tighten borders, to draw firm lines around what we hold."

"I am not so senior," Skurs said quietly, "but I have gathered much the same feeling."

"If this continues, I would guess that we will abandon Bajor and return to within the borders of the Empire."

Skurs shrugged and sipped at his drink. "Perhaps. Time will tell." He seemed to muse for a few moments. "The next few months should identify the direction Central Command sets. Meanwhile, there is nothing we can do here but react to their wishes."

Gallath agreed, signaling for another drink. "I suspect, however, that if the Resistance picks up on this—and they will—their efforts will increase, which will push Central Command further in the direction of withdrawal."

"If what we believe is true, it does follow."

"Jevah," Skurs warned later in his rooms, "you must not repeat any of that conversation."

She looked at him for a moment. "Who would I tell? The only people I see are you, the project team, and occasionally the Prefect's lady."

Skurs acknowledged it. "True enough. I thought only to warn you. This should not become a topic for gossip; morale is suffering enough."

She finished pulling the clips from her hair. "I understand." She pulled the dress over her head and tossed it into the closet. "What will they do?"

Skurs shook his head. "It depends on the instruction that comes from Central Command. Their usual response is to increase measures to ensure compliance."

Jevah sat down on the bed. "What will the Prefect do?"

"Whatever he is told. How he does it is what is open to question."

Skurs sat down beside her, having changed into casual clothing. "Let us talk of something less political, shall we?" he asked softly.

Jevah turned to him. "What did you have in mind?"

He whispered into her ear, his breath sending warm shivers along her skin.

Her meeting with Naprem the next evening did not start so comfortably. When Jevah, accompanied by a security escort, approached the Prefect's quarters, she paused at the door. The sounds of shouting came clearly through the bulkhead door, although the words were indistinguishable. Jevah halted, glanced at her escort, and then at the guards stationed at the door, who stared ahead with expressionless faces. "Maybe I should come back later?" she asked.

No response came; she started to turn away when the door opened and the Prefect stalked out. His face was strained, but relaxed slightly when he recognized Jevah by the door. "Go in," he told her soberly, "she can use the company right now." He moved abruptly down the corridor and the guard held the door for Jevah to step inside.

She waited until it closed behind her, and called out. "Naprem?" She stepped further into the room, and saw a crumpled heap of clothing on the couch shift and resolve into the Prefect's lady. Naprem raised her head; her face was stained with tears, her hair disheveled.

"Jevah, come in, I am so sorry-" she began. Her face crumpled and she began to weep.

Jevah sat next to her and gathered her into her arms. "What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

Naprem sobbed into her skirt, then wiped her face and tried to sit up. "Dukat-" she hiccupped. "He wants to send me away."

Jevah tightened her arms around Naprem, held her close. "Breathe," she said, "take some deep breaths." She went to the replicator and ordered a mug of tea, then held the aromatic liquid under Naprem's nose. Naprem shuddered and let out a long, sobbing breath. She sipped the tea, hiccupped, and sipped again, then sat up straight and wrapped her hands around the mug.

"He thinks things are going to fall apart here, that the Cardassians will be pulled out," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "He wants to send me away; to a place I can be safe. But he will stay here until the end, and go back to Cardassia, and I will never see him again." She burst into tears again at the reminder, and Jevah caught the mug of tea before it spilled. She hugged Naprem again, and rocked her gently until the weeping began to taper off.

"It might not happen, Naprem," she said quietly. "If it does, it might not be for a long time. A lot can change before ships launch."

Naprem straightened and rubbed her eyes like a sleepy child, then reached for the mug of tea and sipped it again. "I know. I have thought about that. But if Dukat is thinking about this, then he knows—or thinks he knows—how it will go. He has very good instincts for this sort of thing."

"If it does happen," Jevah continued, "and there's nothing you can do to change it, shouldn't you enjoy the time you have left with him?"

Naprem shrugged. "I suppose. But I don't want to go. Why does it have to end? Why can't we just go somewhere, the two of us? Or settle somewhere on Bajor or Cardassia?"

Jevah shifted on the couch, and gathered her legs under her. Naprem needed to see reality. "Why couldn't you?"

Naprem sniffled. "Bajorans would kill him. Or me, or both of us. I have no illusions about what they think of me. Cardassians would despise me—and I know he has a wife. There would be no place for me there." She gulped at the cooling tea. "And for going elsewhere—Dukat is a military man. What else would he do? He is so loyal to Cardassia that he would consider being elsewhere a betrayal."

She turned a pale, tear-streaked face to Jevah. "I know there are no good answers, Jevah. But sometimes I think that if I work hard enough, I can find a way to make things happen the way I want."

Jevah laughed gently. "I sometimes feel the same way," she admitted, "and I am always disappointed when it doesn't work."

They had been sitting, talking quietly for some time when Dukat returned. He went to the replicator and brought refills for tea, and a mug of his own, taking a chair near where Jevah and Naprem sat on the couch.

"I am sorry I got so upset," Naprem said quietly.

Dukat sighed deeply. "I expected some reaction, certainly." He nodded at Jevah. "Did you tell her?"

Naprem nodded. "It just all came out." She warmed her hands on the mug, sipped tentatively. "Jevah has been a friend to me."

"My thanks for that," Dukat murmured.

"Naprem has been my friend as well," Jevah said. "It works both ways." She looked at Naprem, then at Dukat, picking up some sense of their desire to be alone, and stood. "I should be going," she added, and set the mug on a nearby table. "I have work in the morning."

Dukat stood and walked her to the door, and ordered one of the guardsmen to escort her to Skurs' rooms. "Again, my thanks," he said quietly. "Naprem has need of her friends."

Jevah looked up at him, suddenly no longer intimidated. "So do we all. Goodnight."


	19. Chapter 19

Skurs was standing at the viewport, looking outward, when Jevah returned. She joined him, staring at the stars, trying to clear her mind of the overwhelming emotions that circled. Joy, that the Cardassians might be leaving Bajor. Sadness at Naprem's obvious pain. Some regret for herself, her future—how would women in her situation be treated? As collaborators? Victims, survivors? What would her future be like, how would it even feel to _have_ a future that did not include being labor for the Occupation force? And was she reading too much into this, into Naprem's fears, into Dukat's decision?

"You are disturbed," Skurs said from beside her. "What has happened?"

"Apparently, the Prefect is concerned about what is happening here—he is talking about sending Naprem away."

Skurs took a quick breath. "He must truly be concerned. There are, then, things we do not know about events on the planet and in other areas."

Jevah nodded. "Suddenly everything is—unsettled. In flux. I don't know what will come tomorrow." She shuddered. "I am afraid things will get worse now—much worse."

"Overthinking will not change anything," Skurs reminded her. "Try to sleep. Tomorrow will go on as scheduled."

Jevah snorted in spite of herself. "Of course it will."

In the next tendays, the mining colony project was reduced to half time; the team members were sent back to their previous positions several days per tenday. Jevah took her former place in the LSC, with Skurs supervising her shift on a half-time basis. Other schedules were rearranged to accommodate personnel. The resettlement project was not canceled, but it was much earlier in the process, so would be more easily halted if that decision were made.

Jevah was delighted to see Binna; it had been nearly half a year. She gave her a quick hug as she settled into her station, and sent her a delighted smile. Binna returned a quieter one; she was subdued as she watched her station. Jevah found herself bored to tears almost immediately; the project work had been interesting in a long-term way.

At the mid-day break, she spoke with Binna. "I've missed you," she said, and Binna smiled.

"It has been interesting," she said, "and strange. The tension has been ramping up lately; I keep wondering what might be happening to change it.

Jevah shrugged. "I've heard of a thing or two, but I know there's a lot more that I don't hear. Just that things are changing rapidly." She glanced around. "I occasionally hope that things will go our way."

Binna sighed. "I have similar hopes, especially now, with how fast things seem to be changing." She leaned forward as if to hug Jevah. "The Resistance has ramped up activity, I know that much," she whispered in her ear. They moved back to their stations, Jevah catching a glimpse of Skurs watching her from the side. She wondered for a moment if he ever suspected her involvement in passing on information, and suppressed the thought ruthlessly. She could not afford to dwell on such ideas.

She transitioned into the routine of working two jobs with ease, as neither of them were new, and found that the variety was enough to keep her interested in what she was doing. She spent several more evenings with Naprem, although there was no change in her status during that time; Naprem seemed prone to think that perhaps the whole thing had been a false alarm.

There were further minor alarms on the station; an entire shipment of data rods was corrupted and they had to wait for the next supply delivery before spares were available. An intermittent glitch in the replicators provided food grossly over-spiced for three days; all the replicators had to be taken off-line and reset manually before anything palatable could be generated. Nuisance stink bombs and shriek devices cleared cargo bays and the processing areas for hours on end, causing work slowdowns that impacted production quotas.

The next social event announcement was met with a feeling of relief.

"I suspect that people want something different on which to focus," Skurs said while they discussed it one evening.

"I can certainly understand that," Jevah replied. "It has been difficult, these tendays. Everything is unsettled." She slumped in her chair. "Is there any reason I need a different dress for this?"

"Not that I am aware," Skurs replied. "It is a normally scheduled gathering; no special guests or themes are planned."

"Just as well," she replied. "I hope the mood will be better this time."

"As do I," Skurs agreed. "But I hold out no hopes for a comfortable evening."

The room was glittering with utensils and glass, jewelry and beads, flowers and candles, and Jevah looked around as she and Skurs entered, only slightly curious. The dinners had become boring events to be survived; there had been little threat from others who found her beyond ordinary. There was apparently enough turnover in the "comfort women" that even the most jaded found things to interest them. Jevah had heard that at times the women were rotated to other administrative centers on Bajor, in the large cities, so that the Cardassians in each location would not see the same faces all the time; the disappearances of certain women seemed to bear this out.

This gathering was more relaxed than the last; it was rather like the earlier functions she had attended. Morale seemed to be better; the banter and laughter was natural, not forced, and there were no angry groups that Jevah could see. She sipped wine, greeted those she knew as they circled, and gave appropriate greetings for the others. When they came to where the Prefect stood with his senior officers, she saw that Naprem was back to her usual cheerful self; she hugged Jevah and squeezed her hands. "Come see me," she said, "it has been too long."

Jevah laughed. "It has been less than five days!" she protested.

"Nevertheless," Naprem told her, "come visit. I enjoy your company, and wish to share it."

"I will come the day after tomorrow," Jevah promised.

The Prefect held her fingers for a moment while he talked to Skurs, then belatedly nodded at her, repeating the invitation Naprem had made. "Yes," Jevah told him, "we are planning two days from now." He nodded, spoke to Skurs. "I will comm if I am available; if so, you must both come. Join us for dinner." Jevah glanced at Skurs, who dipped his head in agreement; they moved away as others crowded against them for their share of time with the Prefect.

At dinner they sat with the engineers, and technical discussion flowed around them like water. Jevah had learned a bit more about the environmental systems on the project, and found that she understood far more of the discussion than before, which certainly made it more interesting. The women sitting with the engineers, however, looked bored and concentrated on their meals or their wine.

Jevah sighed as they moved into the lounge area; this was the time she found most stressful. Barriers were coming down, intoxicants had been imbibed, and there was little to stop people from saying or doing what they wanted. She and Skurs settled into a big chair, and sat in silence for some time. To her surprise, Legate Gallath took the nearby chair a while later, and made himself comfortable.

He saluted them with his glass. "Well come," he said, and drank deeply, gesturing for more kanar.

"Legate," Skurs replied.

Gallath leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Have you heard anything about the communication from Central Command?" he asked. Skurs shook his head.

"It seems that my suspicions were correct; there is little I know for certain, but indications are that withdrawal may be imminent."

"What timeframe would you define as imminent?" Skurs asked.

"Six months, perhaps a year," the Legate replied. "Of course, that is speculation on my part, but I have seen these sorts of movements before, and they take some time to implement."

"They would," Skurs agreed. "The troop carriers alone will take significant planning and resources. There are tens of thousands of us stationed here." He slipped an arm around Jevah's waist, and pressed his fingers warningly on her hip. _Be silent_ , he seemed to tell her. She clasped her hand over his, tightening her fingers. _I know._

"It would be pleasant to be in the Central Worlds," Gallath said. "I would like to see my family more than twice a year."

"That would be a fine thing," Skurs agreed.

"Have you a family?" Gallath asked.

"No. My enjoined died last year. My family has made no further arrangements."

Gallath was sobered. "You are young yet," he told him, "there is still time. But my children are growing, and I am not there to see it."

Skurs pressed his glass to his lips; Jevah saw that he did not actually drink. "Perhaps you will be one of those sent early," he suggested.

"May Central Command hear your words," Gallath breathed. "I find I tire of this, of the constant struggle. If this world were less resistant, perhaps my family could have come here and settled, but it is too dangerous still." Jevah did not move; she heard resentment and frustration in Gallath's voice.

"Best they are safe at home," Skurs commented.

Gallath was distracted when a young woman with a bottle of kanar walked to his chair; she refilled their glasses and Gallath pulled her onto his lap. "Well, I will cheer up, now," he announced, and stroked her arm. "Tira, my friends here are Skurs and—" he gestured at Jevah, nearly spilling his drink. "I can't remember your name," he told her solemnly.

"This is Jevah," Skurs said, the pressure of his fingers again warning her to silence.

Tira, a small woman with big, wondering eyes, smiled tentatively. "Tira is new to the station," Gallath told them, "she has arrived just recently." He finished his kanar and beckoned for more.

"How much kanar do you suppose this station goes through on a monthly basis?" Skurs asked, as if struck by the thought.

"Oh, cases and cases," Gallath suggested. "I have seen the cargo bays when the supply ships arrive. Fully half a ship's cargo might be kanar, or so it seems when you watch them unload it." He drank again. "Of course, there are other wines, and more brought up from the planet, but kanar is the favorite." He leaned forward to touch his glass to Skurs'. "Now my favorite vintage is from the Highlands, but there are good things to be said about the crop that comes from Eeldes." He continued discussing the varieties of fruit and grain that went into the drink for some time, and Jevah tuned him out, watching the room at random.

The mood held; it was far more relaxed now than the previous gathering. The Prefect and many of the senior officers had left; the lights were lowered and the atmosphere in the room seemed to be moving toward thoughts of more private pursuits. Conversations were quieter, and more couples were absorbed in each other; the bartender and his assistant had started moving about the room, picking up abandoned glasses.

She saw Nuala with a Cardassian she did not recognize; they were seated near the bar and appeared to be talking quietly to another couple. Her eyes were drawn to the bartender when he moved around behind Gallath and toward the door; she wondered vaguely where he was going. Out of nowhere, there was a sudden flash of light, and her ears were assaulted by an enormous roar. The chair she'd been perched on flipped over, landing on top of her, and she heard the patter of a rain of debris falling in the room.

For a stunned moment, silence fell. Then she heard muffled screams, shouts, groans, and became slowly aware that she was in some pain; she could not immediately identify the source. _A bomb,_ she told herself, _there must have been a bomb_. She felt very clever for having figured it out, and lay still, congratulating herself. The weight holding her down shifted, and she gasped; the vague pain suddenly resolved itself into a red agony in her arm.

"Jevah." It sounded like a whisper, and she shook her head. "Jevah."

"I'm here, " she answered.

"Are you hurt?" Part of the weight holding her shifted again, and she realized that Skurs had landed on top of her. He seemed to be speaking very quietly.

"I think—my arm," she replied. "It hurts—but nothing else." She became aware that tears were rolling down into her hair; she determined not to be one of the people she heard screaming. "I am not going to scream," she assured him.

Some light returned; the chair had been pulled off them and Skurs scrambled to his feet. Jevah looked around, and realized that the place was on fire; the shadows threw strange patterns across the moving shapes. _People,_ she told herself. _Getting out._ She sat up, cradling her left arm across her chest, and looked for Skurs. He was behind her; he lifted her to her feet and walked her toward the door. She twisted to look at him; he had a deep cut across his cheek and his hair was singed short on one side of his head.

He walked her into the corridor and down a short distance before sitting her down, her back against the bulkhead. "Stay here," he ordered, and turned back into the lounge. People were streaming out, now, some alone, others supporting the wounded. Several people were carried out, some thrashing in pain, others so still that Jevah realized immediately that they must be dead. She saw a couple of Bajorans stumble out of the room, supporting a third between them, and suddenly remembered Nuala, who'd been sitting near the bar. She started to stand, to go search for her, but the passageway spun around her, and something began pounding a discordant rhythm inside her skull. It felt as if the station trembled underneath her, again and then again. _Perhaps it is my heart I am feeling,_ she told herself. Abruptly it was very dark and very quiet.

Jevah slowly came to awareness. She was comfortable, warm, and only gradually noticed the deep ache in her arm. She tried to move it, found it heavy and unresponsive. She looked down and saw that her arm was resting on a pillow on her lap, and was encased in a transparent cast material. She looked around herself; she was back in Skurs' quarters, lying on the couch, facing the viewport. Her mouth was dry; with her good arm, she reached for the glass of water on the nearby table. Skurs loomed over her suddenly, startling her; she nearly dropped the glass before he caught it from her hand.

"Your injuries are minor," he told her. "Broken wrist and concussion, you will recover and have been assigned two days for recovery."

"What happened?" Jevah asked. Her memories of the incident were dim and shadowy.

"An explosive was planted in the area behind the bar," Skurs told her, sitting on the chair next to where she lay. "Several people were killed; many others were wounded. We were a substantial distance away, so were not badly injured."

He looked at the viewport for a moment, and then back at Jevah. "There were several other devices that exploded in the following several minutes. There were multiple deaths and injuries in each location."

Jevah closed her eyes, felt tears leaking down her cheeks into her hair. "I felt those," she whispered, "when I was in the corridor. I thought it was just my imagination."

Skurs sighed. "There were two other devices that did not detonate," he said, "one in the ore processing area that would have killed or injured even more people." He reached out and took her hand. "Your friend Nuala was killed by the blast."

Jevah turned her head to the cushion beside her. _So much death and pain_ , she thought. _It's important—but I wish it could happen without the death_.

"The Prefect and his lady had already left the room; they were uninjured," Skurs continued. "I do not believe you knew any of the others injured by the bomb." He paused. "You will be interviewed by Security tomorrow; there is a possibility that the survivors might have seen the perpetrator."

Jevah thought back to the bartender she had seen moving toward the door; surely he would be identified somewhere. She could only speak to his being in the room; she had not seen anything relating to an explosive.

"There are meds for pain, if you need them," Skurs told her.

"I am good for now," she said quietly. "It's just an ache." She drifted into silence, eyes unfocused, and let her mind wander into sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

A Cardassian soldier escorted Jevah to the Security office, then stepped outside. She was given a chair, and a subtle change in the ambient sound told her that a privacy field had been activated.

"You are Casti Jevah," the middle-aged Cardassian behind the desk said.

"Yes."

"You were in the lounge at the time of the explosion?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what you saw."

"We were sitting, talking. People were moving around the room or sitting on chairs, talking, nothing unusual. The bartender and his assistant were moving around the room, picking up glasses." She hesitated, took a deep breath. "Then it just-went bad. The flash, the shock and the noise, it knocked me over and I was out."

The Cardassian said nothing, simply watched her. "I woke up and it was mostly dark. I could hear people calling, screaming- I was under the chair, and my arm was broken." She gestured with the cast. "I was taken into the hallway, I felt two more shocks that must have been much farther away, and I passed out again." She shrugged. "That was it."

The Security officer watched her closely, his eyes hard. "Do you know anyone in the Resistance?"

"I met someone once who said he was in the Resistance, but I never knew his name."

"Where did you meet him?"

"In the casual labor area, about a year ago."

"Is he still on the station?"

"I don't know. I have not been there since that time."

He glanced down at his console, and back up, suddenly disinterested. "You are dismissed."

He opened the door and cut off the privacy screen; Jevah's escort stepped forward. They walked back to Skurs' rooms, Jevah lost deep in thought, not paying attention to the route, leaving the soldier to navigate. She stopped when he did, and became aware that the Prefect was standing in front of her.

"Jevah. Were you hurt yesterday?"

"No, sir, just a broken arm."

He nodded. "Very well. Naprem would like to see you, when you are able."

"I can see her today, if she has time."

"Yes. Just comm first." He walked on, and Jevah looked at his tall figure moving down the corridor. She could read nothing from him; he seemed to move with the same assurance as ever, but there was something in his voice she could not identify that made her think something significant was happening.

They returned to Skurs' rooms, and Jevah turned to the escort. "Can you wait for a moment while I comm the Prefect's lady?"

He nodded assent, and waited inside the door while Jevah made the call, and then agreed to escort her to the Prefect's quarters.

Naprem pulled her into a hug at the door and held her for a long time. "I am so glad you are safe!" she exclaimed, then sobered. "I heard about Nuala," she added quietly. "She was very near the explosion."

Jevah nodded as they settled into comfortable chairs. "I saw her there," she said, "she was having a conversation and looked happy."

Naprem looked down. "Let me get some tea," she said, and moved to the replicator. She returned with two steaming mugs and settled back in to her chair. "I wish-" she shook her head. "I wish this wasn't happening. I wish we were at peace with Cardassia, that perhaps we were allies or at least neutral. This is awful." She looked up at Jevah. "I know people think I am trivial and flighty. But I do see what is happening here, and on Bajor. I just feel that I must take happiness where I can find it, and hope for things to resolve in time. I don't see the harm in that."

Jevah sipped at her tea. "I can understand that," she said quietly. "Many of us are just doing the best we can in the reality in which we live. Others dedicate their lives to fighting it. I respect that, and I agree with their goals; I just wish they could accomplish it without so much killing." She hesitated, looked up at Naprem. "I also understand about taking your happiness where you can. I have been safe here, protected, and that makes a big difference in how I live on the station and how I see events that happen around us."

Naprem looked at her. "Are you happy? With Skurs?"

Jevah considered. "I have thought about that a lot, actually," she said. "I like the work I am doing, and he is kind to me. He keeps me safe. I'm comfortable with him, I'm content. Happy—that would be different, I think. I would have to know him better; he keeps me at a distance. But I am content, considering how things are on Bajor today and where I might be had he not picked me out."

Naprem smiled sadly. "I had hoped that someone else might have found the happiness I have with Dukat," she said. "But I can appreciate _content_ certainly."

Jevah leaned forward, and beckoned Naprem closer. "I must admit that he is very good in bed," she whispered. Naprem giggled. "What has happened with the investigations?" she asked.

Naprem shook her head. "Dukat has mentioned a few things, but he does not seem to want to discuss it. There is a great deal of repair work to be done, and those who planted the bombs have yet to be caught. I suspect that they will be executed with much publicity when they are identified."

Jevah shuddered. She had attended one execution; that was enough. "I am just glad you were not there," she told Naprem.

"Dukat never cares to stay for that part," Naprem confessed. "I think he doesn't like to see how people behave when they are drunk beyond reason."

Jevah nodded. "I have seen a few things I wish I could forget in those rooms," she agreed.

Naprem sipped at her tea. "I am just as pleased to leave. I know the women brought here, I consider many of them friends. They never had a choice to be here. Most are doing the best they can."

Jevah sighed. "I have had some unwanted attention—I don't think I could live their lives."

Naprem twisted her mug around in her hands. "This is getting worse," she said, "I keep fearing that Dukat was serious about sending me away. He has not mentioned it for a while, but—"

The door slid open and Dukat stepped into the room. Naprem greeted him with a joyous smile, and lifted her face to be kissed. Jevah watched Dukat caress her cheek gently while he kissed her before he turned to the bar and poured himself a drink. Jevah and Naprem accepted glasses of autumn wine when he offered, and Dukat joined Naprem on the couch, where she snuggled next to him.

Dukat leaned back and stretched his legs before him. "Tired, love?" Naprem asked.

"There is so much damage," he sighed. "So many killed. And there is more aggression happening on the planet as well. The struggle never ends." He drank deeply from his glass, stared at the wall behind Jevah. "Why must people struggle against what is best for them?"

Jevah ducked her head, concentrated on her drink. She could not argue politics with the Prefect; she felt comfortable enough to discuss things with Skurs, but Dukat held too much power. Her head began to pound.

Naprem leaned against his shoulder. "People want what they want," she told him quietly. "We don't always see things the same way."

Jevah sipped her wine, and finished the glass. "I should be going," she said, "my head is beginning to ache."

Naprem leapt up and took her glass. "You should rest, after a broken arm and concussion!" she exclaimed.

"And I go back to work tomorrow," Jevah added.

"Take another day," Dukat advised. "I will let your supervisor know. And tomorrow is the day we'd planned to have dinner if possible."

Jevah smiled at him, slightly amazed at how easy she was around him now. "Thank you, sir; I look forward to it."

Dukat walked her to the door and signaled one of the guards to escort her.

On the following day, Jevah and Skurs arrived at the Prefect's quarters late in the afternoon. Dukat had messaged them that he expected to be available, and Skurs should join them for the evening. Naprem was delighted to see him, and settled everyone into comfortable chairs with full glasses. They carried on a light, inconsequential conversation until Dukat came into the room, his mood obviously dark. He poured himself a drink, gulped it down, and drank another before he came to sit beside Naprem on the couch.

"What is wrong, love?" Naprem asked, sliding her hand around his arm.

"More bombings on the planet," he muttered, "coordinated at multiple sites." He drained his glass, and his hand clenched on it. Jevah thought for an instant that he would hurl it across the room, but he stopped before he moved more than slightly. "Fifty-three killed, more wounded. "Supplies and systems damaged and destroyed."

Jevah caught Naprem's eye. "Should we leave?" she asked as silently as possible. Naprem shook her head, then stood and refilled Dukat's glass. Jevah glanced at Skurs, who had stilled into immobility, also staring into his glass.

Dukat took a deep breath. "Well. It has been handled. Let us move on to other topics."

But as was inevitable, he and Skurs discussed the attacks, which had been devastating to the sites involved. While they talked, Naprem moved to replicate and collect food for dinner; Jevah joined her. "He will work it out of his system," Naprem said. "It just takes time."

"These are becoming more frequent," Jevah said quietly.

"Yes, and the tension is increasing," Naprem acknowledged. "Perhaps-" she sighed. "That is a conversation for a different day."

Dinner conversation was strained, and they settled onto couches and chairs afterward, all casting about for a safe area of conversation.

"Another promotion, Skurs," Dukat said after a long silence. "In three days you will be promoted to Dalin."

"I am honored," Skurs returned.

"You have earned it," Dukat said. "Your work has been exemplary; you do not seem to be suffering from the malaise that infects so many others." He nodded at Jevah. "Perhaps having a—companion—has contributed to that."

"Most certainly," Skurs agreed.

Dukat watched her for a moment. "I thought that perhaps having women available here would be good for morale, but it does not seem to have made a significant difference."

"It may be," Skurs offered, "that there is a difference between an evening with an attractive—woman who is a stranger, and a companion with whom one can relax, converse, and enjoy—other activities." He shifted uncomfortably, his voice trailing into silence.

Naprem snorted, tried to hide it, and Jevah stifled a giggle. Dukat laughed outright, and lifted his glass in a silent toast. "To other activities," he said, and sipped from his cup.

They toasted, and Dukat pulled Naprem close to him. "There is something to be said for companionship," he said, and nuzzled her neck. "Naprem has lightened my existence here immeasurably." She blushed, and stroked his cheek, while Jevah and Skurs looked away, both uncomfortable and amused.

"I share those sentiments," Skurs murmured. Jevah's eyes widened; he had never before made any indication of his feelings, other than his requirement that she remain with him. He caught her eye and winked; Jevah felt herself blushing.

Dukat launched into a convoluted tale of political intrigues and maneuverings at Central Command, to which Skurs listened intently; Jevah and Naprem exchanged glances while they spoke.

The evening was winding to a close when the station shuddered, then shook again. Dukat and Skurs ran for the door, Dukat snapping "Stay here!" just before they exited.

Naprem breathed deeply, obviously trying to calm herself. "I worry every time that he is the target—there have been attempts on his life before."

Jevah moved to sit next to her on the couch; the cushions were still warm from the imprint of Dukat's body. "He will be fine," she said, "men like Dukat are too stubborn to be hurt."

Naprem was pale, her hands trembled. "It's getting worse," she whispered, and sobbed. "He's going to send me away."

Jevah shook her head. "I know it's only been three days since the last bombing, but—" her voice trailed off. She could not think of anything to say that would be both comforting and true.

The station shuddered again, and Naprem cried out. "He's there, in the middle of it."

Jevah hugged her. "He's probably directing it from the Operations Center, Naprem," she said, "that's where the most coordination will happen."

"Yes," Naprem agreed, and shook herself. "He's in Ops, not in the center of the disaster." She made an effort, drew herself together. "I am not going to think about this right now," she promised.

It was well into morning before Skurs and Dukat returned; they looked weary and frustrated. They sank into chairs, and Naprem bustled to obtain mugs of tea for them before she joined Dukat on the couch. Skurs sat next to Jevah and slumped low on the cushions.

"Another?" she asked.

Skurs nodded, looked to Dukat, who did not move. "An explosion in the ore processing center," he said, "and then another when repair and aid crews began to arrive."

"Twelve dead," Dukat murmured, "and forty-some wounded."

Jevah shivered, felt Skurs sigh. "The ore processing plant will be down for some days for repairs."

Skurs looked at Jevah, and stood. "We should go to the project room," he said, "there is much to be done."

Dukat didn't look up, but waved his hand toward the door.

"You were very helpful," he told Skurs. "That will not be forgotten."

They walked wearily toward the project room, not speaking. The project had faltered in recent days, with more time being spent on overcoming hurdles to the digging of the tunnels. The design had long since been completed and machinery was being delivered to the moon in preparation for setup. There was little work for Jevah except keeping track of the progress, handling manifests and ship orders, so she was able to take some time to consider the implications of the most recent bombing. This soon after the last attack might mean that the Resistance was stepping up their efforts, maybe in response to the rumors about Central Command's increasing disinterest in all things Bajoran.

 _Perhaps_ , she thought, _just perhaps the Occupation might be moving toward an end. It could end relatively peacefully or it could end up in a guerrilla war-type action, but it would not be an outright war, as Bajorans had no structure that resembled a military_.

What would they do, after? Go back to the old ways, the d'jarras, the old attitudes? _No_ , she thought, _Bajorans have lived without those structures for more than a generation. Cultures moved forward for the most part, not back. They would find a new way, one that incorporated what they had held on through the Occupation, and added what they had come to value._


	21. Chapter 21

Naprem was gone. No warning, no indication, no opportunity for saying farewells. Jevah only found out when she asked, after hearing nothing from her for several days. Dukat had put her on a transport, the _Ravinok_ , ignoring her protests, and sent her away, presumably for her own safety. Jevah could only hope that she would find a good life wherever she was going.

The mining colony and recolonization projects were canceled. Jevah resumed work in the Life Support Center as a monitor. Skurs was transferred to a position in Operations, overseeing the overall Life Support systems. He did not discuss his work there, but he did not spend evenings on his console any longer; there was full coverage for every shift, so he was not obligated to work after hours.

The tension on the station was palpable; the repair crews were overworked and the Bajorans agitated. It took several days for the ore processing operation to begin work again; the workers treated the hiatus as a holiday while it lasted. The Cardassians were tense and defensive; fights broke out on both sides and the participants were severely punished in a public assembly.

News outside the station was hard to come by, but Jevah heard a few things, heard more from Binna, who still lived in the workers' dormitories. The uprising on Bajor had accelerated; Cardassians everywhere were at risk of attack, even in cities they considered their own. Those who had families had sent them home; those with Bajoran lovers had abandoned them as the military consolidated their positions into their fortress-like administrative centers.

Jevah finally came to believe that the Occupation could be ending.

"A date has been set for us to leave Bajor and the station."

Jevah stared in shock at Skurs' words. She swallowed. It was what she had wanted, what they had all wanted. But now, somehow, she wasn't ready. Her world shivered under her. "How long?"

"Twenty days. Planetary forces are being evacuated now; that will take some time. The station will be emptied last." Skurs turned from her console to the viewport, stared outward. "The Detapa Council has decided to reinforce the existing borders, not spend forces on expanding or holding outside territory."

"You'll be able to go home," she said.

"Yes." He did not turn around.

"Skurs," she said, but he did not move. She joined him at the viewport, slipped an arm around his waist. "What is it?"

"I don't know. Perhaps—this feels like failure."

"Of course it does. There were plans—there were things yet to accomplish. And now they never will be done. But it is not your personal failure."

"It is the failure of my people, my government, those to whom I am loyal."

"Yes. And everyone, people and organizations, makes mistakes."

He turned in her arm, faced her. "Some things were not mistakes." His arms encircled her, pulled her close. "This has been good."

Jevah leaned into him. "It _has_ been good, mostly." She shuddered, and Skurs rubbed warm hands along her back.

"There is always darkness, always light," he said. "One would be worthless without the other."

Jevah arched an arm around his neck and pulled his head down. She could feel his surprise; she did not initiate intimacy between them. But things were different now. She kissed him, felt his body responding to hers, heard his breathing change. His hands were urgent on her back, holding her close, wandering her body, before he held her buttocks and pressed her into his very evident erection. She moaned against his lips, lifted one leg to curl around his thigh. He grasped it, used it to lift her higher, and pressed her against the viewport, pulling her legs around his waist. She curved her pelvis against him, pressing against his hardness, and released his mouth to move her head and bite his earlobe. He twitched, thrust against her, and lowered her almost immediately to start pulling at her clothing. She helped him loosen his garments as he pulled hers off her and lifted her back up, then she wound her legs around his waist again, feeling his hardness just touching her entrance. He was breathing hard now, and started to lower her onto himself. Jevah moved a hand beneath her to guide him, then took a shuddering breath as he thrust into her. She was pressed against the viewport, meeting his movements, her mouth on his neck, licking and biting his neck ridges. He moved harder, faster, and Jevah matched his pace, coming closer and closer to the edge, her breathing ragged.

Skurs slowed, and Jevah gasped. She looked up at him, saw that he was watching her closely. She knew she was flushed, her lips felt swollen, and she tried to pull his head to hers but he resisted, moving slowly against her, maintaining the level of arousal, but not bringing it to completion. "Skurs," she said shakily, "please—" Her words were the key; he moved his mouth to hers and thrust deeply, hard, and she moaned against his lips, her body begging for release. Finally, she climaxed, crying out against his neck, and felt him shuddering in his own release.

They didn't move for several minutes, panting against each other, coming down, energy draining from them like water from a sieve. Skurs lowered Jevah to a standing position and looked down at her. "I will miss this," he said quietly. "I will miss you." He turned away, into the fresher, and Jevah heard the water start running.

Epilog: Five years later

They met at Quark's, one of the tables on the upper level, where those who chose might watch everything below without being observed. Jevah sipped wine; Skurs drank kanar.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Well enough. I'm still working here on the station, still in Life Support, as the Beta shift Operations supervisor." She sipped her drink. "You?"

"There is a gathering of organizations willing to help rebuild Cardassia," Skurs told her. "I am attending as a representative of the utility planning department."

"Do you have a family?"

"In the planning stages, mostly. I met an Engineering student some years ago; we will be married next year."

Jevah smiled. "Good, I am pleased that you found someone who makes you happy."

"Have you a family? Or someone you are with?"

"Not now. I have had a few relationships but we moved on after a while." She turned her glass around in her hands, studying it carefully.

"I have missed you." Jevah looked up, startled. Skurs was watching her intently. "I did not expect to. I did not expect to miss someone I initially took as a convenience. Nevertheless…" he dropped his eyes.

"I miss the feeling of safety you gave me," Jevah told him quietly. "It was a dangerous world for Bajorans during that time, and you changed that for me, as much as you could." She sighed. "I was content, in a very frightening place. That was—important to me."

The silence stretched; Jevah felt something nostalgic, something infinitely sad and somewhat painful, and looked away before her eyes could betray her.

"My transport leaves soon," Skurs finally said, finishing his drink. He took her hand, brought it to his face, and held her palm against his cheek. "Be well, Jevah." He stood and walked away, moving quickly down the stairs and out of sight. Jevah stared after him, then left her half-empty glass of wine on the table and moved in the other direction, toward her quarters.


End file.
